


It has been [REDACTED] days since our last incident

by MissTeaVee



Series: Mimicry [2]
Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: A flash from the past, Cyan did not start out as a sweet bean, Gen, Impostors Are Mimics Not Parasites, Panic Attack, This fic is NOT pornographic but it is a prequel to a very porny one so pls watch urself, he was prepared to Murder, mention of a domestic pet being killed/eaten, threat of death to character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27381547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTeaVee/pseuds/MissTeaVee
Summary: Got asked how Cyan and the crew became so trusting and friendly. This... is the prequel to the "friendship" bit. He did come prepared to kill people.
Series: Mimicry [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000221
Comments: 135
Kudos: 303





	1. Day Thirteen

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Zapatista Ex Machina](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26846440) by [Shhnikeys (Schnikeys)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schnikeys/pseuds/Shhnikeys). 



Breakfast over with, the crew gathers around the big table in the cafeteria, socializing and discussing their months-long journey to a new and exciting planet. Even the oft-dour Pink is in a good mood, having announced to them all that two weeks without suspicious incident meant that they’re parasite free on this ship.

What a relief. It is good, White admits to herself, to have someone who’s experienced Impostor attacks before, and knows what to look for. Apparently on ships Pink had previously served, there were never more than ten days between attacks. The things that take over people - turn them into monsters - they need to feed regularly, as best as anyone can tell.

“Everyone on this crew was cleared on-station by medical before being sent out,” Yellow sniffs at Pink. “I’d hope no parasite-infected person managed to get on board.”

“They cleared everyone in the _Kormrant_ too,” Pink says grimly. “Then Eggshell didn’t show up for dutyshift and…”

His voice cracks. He folds his hands on the table. “I shouldn’t ruin the day…”

“It’s alright,” says Purple sympathetically. “You’ve lived the worst-case scenario a couple times.”

“Losing people you care about is hard,” adds Cyan quietly. His voice is sympathetic and tired, as if speaking from experience. White glances at him curiously. He’s generally withdrawn from the crew, shy but sweet. An introvert by all accounts, but this isn’t the first time he’s tried extending kindness to Pink.

Pink nods, folding his arms on the table. “I’m just glad that it looks like we’ll have a smooth run this time.”

“Well, I’d like to figure out what happened to Poppet,” Black muses. White winces at that; the caniform pet has been missing for a few days now. A vent in the hallway was open, and though they’ve tried putting down food to lure the critter out, it’s seeming more and more likely that Poppet got sucked into the air purification and ergo…

She wonders if pets disappearing is considered suspicious, but Pink knows about all that and hasn’t seemed concerned except for worrying about the animal, so…

Yellow stands up for attention, assigning duties to the crew. Light work today and tomorrow, only what needs doing to keep the ship running smoothly, since it’s their weekend. “I’m thinking of changing our night shift rotation down to two instead of three. We’ve been without incident and it’d be easier to get our daytime duties complete with the extra set of hands. Any thoughts?”

“It’d almost be easier to just keep three of us on permanent night duty,” says Lime. “Keep the sleep schedule consistent.”

“Sure, but then the only social interaction is the other night people, and no offence, you’re all great, but I will literally murder anyone if I have to be constantly locked in the security room with them except when I’m sleeping,” groans Green, to general snickers.

The discussion goes back and forth. White sees pros and cons with every possibility, elbows folded on the table. A chiming from her pocket makes her jump, and she blushes under her helmet when everyone looks at her.

“Sorry, I thought my PDA was muted…”

“Sounds like a ping from HQ,” says Yellow. “Medical alert, maybe?”

“Oh, that _would_ override a mute,” White comments, pulling out her PDA to check. If there’s some medical concern being broadcast, she should inform the whole crew anyway.

“I would’ve gotten that ping too, then…” Purple says, reaching for his own PDA.

“Hmm, no it’s… a ping on my Xenobiology tasking,” White says, blinking down at the screen. “That’s odd, why would I get a high-priority ping for something related to that?”

“Whoever sent it to you must’ve accidentally selected the “high priority” checkbox,” chuckles Blue.

White scrolls through the memo. “No, the subject line indicates high priority. But it’s about collecting specimens. Strange…”

“Safety procedure update because some PhD with more brains than common sense did something they didn’t realize there had to be a rule against,” Red suggests, to snickers from Brown and Blue. Typical engineers, poking fun at the ‘squishy’ degrees. White smiles at the good-natured ribbing.

“No, it’s… they want us to prioritize collection of samples of... Polus Lifeform type X223. Little worms that live in steam caverns. Like… prioritize to a ridiculous degree,” White shakes her head as she reads. “This… doesn’t make sense…”

“Why not?” ask a few voices in unison. One sounds sharp, and everyone pauses for a moment, glancing around and wondering whose voice that was.

White blinks around at the table. Everyone seems surprised; Lime’s hand on the table has clenched into a fist, Red’s looking side to side as if his neighbours have the answers, Cyan’s shoulders are slightly hunched, and Pink’s rubbing his knuckles against the chin of his helmet as he ponders.

“Eh…” White looks back down at the datapad. “Well... this says that several hundred or so samples of this species have already been collected. All flash-frozen so they can be distributed for study. But they want more.”

“So they want to study them alive, that’s sensible,” shrugs Brown, but White shakes her head, lifting her PDA.

“HQ says they _must_ be flash frozen before handling, and to prioritize this species over any new ones. There’s a vague mention of biomedical research possibilities, but it’s just… strange. Wasteful. Flash freezing a cave full of life forms means killing off a colony of potentially unique creatures, beneficial bacteria… it’s just ruining a whole environment. Plus, there’s just no reason to need… that many…”

“You know what, that _is_ odd,” Purple says, tapping a finger on the table idly as he reads over her shoulder. “Sounds like an error of some sort, but to have it all typed out formally, plus with the heavy high-priority messaging…”

“Maybe those worms are the parasites!” Exclaims Blue. “They wanna study them but they don’t want people freaking out about them?”

 _“Parasites,”_ Cyan mutters, barely heard. He’s got his own PDA out, tapping on it. “What, they-”

Pink swears at that. “They should tell us then! So we know the risks! Some weird cryptic message to a ship’s Xenobiologist isn’t going to prepare us for safety containment procedures!”

“Okay, this is all very interesting,” says Yellow, clearly trying to get them all back on topic. “But I’d like a general consensus on night crew rotations before the end of the day. I want everyone to think about it.”

Nods all around. Several crew members disperse, but Pink, Cyan, Purple and Black stick around. White returns to reading over the missive, trying to determine why it was sent out. She feels like she’s a few pieces short of a full puzzle, and she doesn’t like it. Purple leans over her shoulder to look at the message, “hmf”ing suspiciously.

“Maybe you should look into the already existing data on the species?”

“Yes… I think I will,” White says thoughtfully. “It’s just so peculiar.”

“I think Blue’s idea has some merit,” comments Pink darkly. “That these worms are what’s been infecting people and HQ’s trying to keep it down low. Stupid, but Mira alternates between running a tight ship and absolutely bureaucratic idiocy sometimes.”

“Maybe…” says White, but that feels a little too… tidy. There’d surely be more procedures in place for collection in that case, wouldn’t there? After all, they’re dealing with a creature that can turn a person into a monster. Hyper-functional-

“Parasites…” Cyan says, setting his datapad down. “Live on or in their hosts and get their nourishment from or at the expense of their host.”

“We all know what a parasite is,” Pink snaps at the tech. Cyan glances up at him.

“Parasites don’t usually kill their hosts. Parasitoids are organisms that live on or in their hosts and ultimately kill them.”

Pause. White clears her throat awkwardly.

“... Thanks for that. Somehow knowing that it’s actually two separate scientific classifications somehow makes it worse,” Pink grumbles. “Are you done?”

“Don’t know,” Cyan says, pushing to his feet. “Excuse me…”

White watches him go a moment, frowning. He doesn’t talk about himself much, but he’s always seemed to gravitate towards Pink the most. Past missions done are often sealed information in people’s files, but she suspects that Cyan’s done missions before, just like Pink.

“Did he really search that during the conversation?” Black shakes their head.

“He’s a weirdo sometimes,” Pink grunts. “But he means well, I think.”

White shrugs, returning to her reading as if maybe, just maybe, the memo from HQ will make sense with another read-through.

* * *

_They don’t know. They don’t_ KNOW _._

_They’re the front line of attack and they don’t know what they’re doing. Sapient attack animals that think they’re just exploring. They must be stopped, they can’t do what they’ve been sent to._

_Pink is sharpest, Pink knows what to look for. Pink has to be first. That’s the plan._

_Except… White…_

_She’s the one with direct orders to do it. Maybe she should be first instead! But…_

_She doesn’t think it’s right. She doesn’t know, and she still senses intuitively that the orders are bad; that there’s something off. She doesn’t want to do it._

_Parasites… that’s what they think? They are being deceived._

_Could they be made to see the truth? Would they accept it from an enemy?_

_What happens when they see past the disguise? It means being revealed, after taking so much care to not be found…_

_Have to act, can’t let them go to Polus, can’t let them into the steam caverns… the nurseries…_

_Maybe… maybe there’s a way to see what they’d think, without too much risk. One alone, yes. Somewhere that can be locked. Talk. If it goes poorly, then follow assigned directives; kill and escape. Start the mission proper. But if it goes well…_

_Don’t want to die. Suspected Impostors are airlocked. Those envirosuits apparently mean a person can survive a few minutes in the void before their air runs out and they suffocate. No envirosuit here, just a simulacrum. Quick death as blood boils in the vacuum might be a mercy…_

_Don’t want to die. Don’t want to kill people if they’re not a threat. Can they be made not a threat if they’re not dead?_

_…_

_One way to find out._

_Make sure no one’s in security on cams before walking to medbay._ She’s alone _, good._

_Lock the door._

* * *

She’s bent over her station, writing a query to HQ for more information regarding the new procedures. There’s a loud hiss and clunk and she jumps, looking up. Oh, the doors shut. Oh, there’s someone in medbay. Doors must’ve been locked open improperly and Cyan passing under the sensor made it close automatically. They’ve been doing it for a week, but it’s a backburner repair since they can be overridden open with ease.

She nods to Cyan, though he’s looking at the door.

“Hi Cyan, the doors do that sometimes. Low priority to repair, apparently,” She tells him. He turns to look at her.

“White,” he says softly in greeting. He walks in, over to the scanner, and White turns back to the message she’s writing. The hair on the back of her neck prickles and she lifts her head, looking around. Cyan isn’t at the scanner, he’s standing behind her, just out of arm’s reach. White turns her chair around to face him, he’s a polite distance away but…

Something’s not right here.

“Did you need some help?” she asks. Maybe he just shocked himself doing wires and he’s embarrassed to admit it. He’s shifting his weight, as if uncertain. The incandescent lights hum away, oddly loud to White.

“I… ah,” he pauses, and the moment breaks as he turns slightly away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m interrupting your work.”

White exhales in relief, though she’s not sure why she feels so tense. “I’m just requesting clarification on that memo that came out; it can wait if you need something.”

“Ah,” he says. “Yes. The… procedures with the-”

It takes him a long time to finish his sentence. He turns back towards her.

“... worms.”

“Yes.” Ah, there’s that tension again. White casually stands up and stretches. Cyan takes a step back from her. Thank goodness. He’s watching her, and despite his visor, somehow she knows he’s not blinking. White considers the situation. He’s her height and rather slight, she’s broad shouldered and stronger than a lot of people assume. She’s decent at self-defense. If he makes the first move, she should be able to catch him off guard, make a break for the door.

“What are you asking HQ?”

“I just… want to understand why they want us to basically wipe out large populations of a single species like this,” she says. “I mean, the theory that they’re the parasites makes some sense, but HQ’s procedures are ridiculous in that case.”

Cyan turns his head a moment, then looks back at her. “Can I… read your message?”

“Uhh, sure,” she says, stepping away from the console. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” he steps up to the computer, still keeping space from her, and leans over to read. White glances to the doors, then takes a step towards them. Thank goodness these boots are quiet. She makes it to the doorway, but the heavy doors don’t open automatically. She reaches for the emergency override. It creaks and she flinches glancing at Cyan. He’s watching her, and she gives a little shrug.

“Figured I should ah… try to reset them.”

“Mm,” he turns back to reading. White exhales. Okay, the doors are acting up, Cyan’s not really being threatening, he’s not worried about her trying to get the doors open. Just… the doors doing that thing made her nervous and she jumped to conclusions about her crewmate. It’s good, it’s fine, she should apologize to him about being jumpy. She yanks the override hard. There’s a hiss of air that should accompany the doors opening, but…

 _“It could be severely damaging to a potentially delicate population to remove so many individuals from it. I am a scientist, I want to understand these life forms, not wipe them out. I find it reprehensible to even consider following this directive,”_ Cyan says, quoting from White’s message. She looks around at him. He’s entranced by the console. “That’s… I like that. It’s good.”

“Ah, thank you,” White says. “Cyan, I hate to say it, but I think we’re trapped in here. The doors aren’t opening.”

He looks around and nods slowly. “Yeah…”

“Well,” she blows out a sigh, “I guess I’ll message Yellow to send someone to try and fix the doors. You’re a tech, think you could get them open?”

“Yeah,” Cyan pushes off the console, crossing his arms thoughtfully. White rummages in her pocket for her PDA, but it’s not there. She hums in concern, checking her other pockets and looking around.

“Ah… I can’t find my PDA… do you have yours? Can you message Yellow?”

“No.”

“Ah… well,” she puts her hands on her hips, chewing her lip. “Well, someone will notice eventually…”

“White,” Cyan’s voice is firmer now, and he takes a step closer to her, bringing them within seven feet of one another. “What if… what if Mira HQ tells you you have to kill the ba- the worms?”

She pauses, looking up at him. “I’d want an explanation as to why. A proper one. When we signed up for this, we agreed to adhere to a code of ethics that we wouldn’t harm a planet’s natural life. That’s why we have to have sealed envirosuits, why we have to sterilize the outsides of our suits before we step foot on another planet. All these clean procedures so we don’t alter another planet’s system and then they want us to indiscriminately kill a species? It seems wrong. It’s downright… suspicious.”

Cyan nods slowly, and when he speaks, disbelief is thick in his tone. “You really… you don’t know. I can’t believe it.”

“I… don’t know what?” White asks, wary again.

“Parasites, they say parasites,” he says, spreading his arms. White spots something in his hand; a PDA. No, _her_ PDA. He _stole_ it without her noticing! “Because then! Then you’re too scared to investigate. You just… remove evidence that they’re lying to you for them! It’s… It’s brilliant. Terrible and brilliant and they’re your people and they’re lying to you.”

White stares at him, trying to parse what’s happening. She remembers the way he seemed to contemplate the word _parasite_ after breakfast. Truth is slow to dawn only because it’s so absurd… _Everyone on this crew was cleared on-station by medical before being sent out,_ says Yellow’s voice. _They cleared everyone in the Kormrant too,_ Pink snaps back. The records were faked somehow. That isn’t the work of isolated, hungry parasites; it’s a sign of organized infiltrators.

He’s locked himself in here with her, alone, just the two of them. No one will miss her for hours. Impostors have been recorded travelling through ventilation systems. He’ll simply pop up elsewhere, seem to be just as shocked and upset as everyone else. Poor Pink, this will be his third Imposter ship. Will he survive this one too? Why is she thinking about that when it’s her life on the line right here and now?

“Are you going to kill me?” She asks, because she’s drawing a blank on any other topic of conversation. Cyan huffs, and some of the tension leaves him. He drops her PDA on the floor.

“I don’t want to,” he finally admits. “You’re nice. Everyone likes you. I tried to not. It makes things harder…”

“Pink said that… he said there was never more than ten days between attacks,” White says to stall for time, glancing at her PDA, then at the console. She needs to get word out. Cyan didn’t say he won’t kill her. She doesn’t want to die, but she’s certainly not surviving if she can’t somehow escape. “How did you… oh.. _Poppet…_ ”

“We’re out of range of the hyperspace rescue shuttles now,” Cyan tells her. “I wanted to wait until we were. Less chance of interference.”

“That’s smart,” she says, and means it. Locked in with a smart killer. Damnit.

He looks at her computer, then back at her. “What would you do if your people were dying and the only way to slow it down was to attack people who didn’t know they were doing anything wrong, but couldn’t be reasoned with?”

“I…” White hesitates. That’s… specific. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer,” he snaps, and there’s… something in his voice, and for the first time, White really believes that he’s something else, something alien under his suit. The sound, low and wet and rattling is frightening, and she swallows, trying to muster her courage. “You don’t understand! You talk about morals and ethics but then I ask you to apply them and-”

He turns to the wall, sliding his hand down it and there’s an awful sound, nails on a chalkboard. White eyes her PDA, and makes her choice, right then, diving for it and hitting the ‘redial last’ button and hitting mute.

“DON’T TOUCH THAT!”

White drops her PDA, scrambling back with a terrified cry from what is shaped like a man, but the visor of his helmet has hinged up, and tentacles are thrust past it, pointed teeth flashing at her. He has _claws_ , hands elongating into multi-pointed weapons. Oh gods. She backs up against the wall as Cyan lunges, landing just above her PDA, a horrible snarling hiss emanating from that toothy maw under the visor.

Oh please let that attempt at a call go through…

Yellow’s muttering over the schedules, mentally cursing out the crew for not sending her their thoughts on the night shift being shortened when her PDA buzzes with an incoming call. Huh, White could just message her about it. She thinks about being petty and denying the call and then messaging back, but decides against. She hits ‘answer’.

//“-THAT”// shrieks a voice she’s never heard. Yellow launches to her feet, hearing a frightened yelp and terrible, alien snarls coming from her PDA.

White. White needs help. Yellow nearly slams her hand down on the Emergency Alert button, but stops herself at the last moment. Wherever White is, whatever is attacking her, making the attacker realize they’re found out might mean that White dies.

She snatches up her PDA and looks up and down the hall. She’s in Admin, surely someone is-

Cafeteria! There’s Orange, Brown!

“We’ve got a situation! Come here!” she yells, holding up her PDA. On the other end, White can be heard trying to placate who or whatever is attacking her.

//“I just- listen, I get it, that wasn’t hypothetical, you’re living it! I need to understand-”//

//“Stay there, don’t- Don’t move. Just… just _listen!”//_ snarls that unnatural, monstrous voice.

“Oh gods,” gasps Brown. “Where? What’s happening.”

“I don’t know where-” Yellow says, checking the admin console. White’s in medbay, apparently alone. “Medbay…”

“Shit,” says Orange, reaching for his belt. He was a security officer for a while, but no shock baton now. Yellow is absolutely having him issued one the moment this crisis is over.

They run straight for medbay, the doors won’t open. Yellow tries her commander’s override. No luck. Not even a chime to indicate the system understood the instruction. “Fuck!” she says it with feeling. “Orange, loop the ship, gather everyone you can. Brown. Open the door, I don’t care how!”

Orange takes off at a full sprint for the engines, and Brown hesitates a moment before running back into the cafeteria and coming back with her tools. Yellow hasn’t been paying attention to her PDA, but White’s voice is still coming through, terrified, but alive.

“You asked what I’d do if… if an enemy couldn’t be reasoned with,” White says, shaking, pressed up against the wall behind the scanner. Cyan doesn’t seem to like the thing; he won’t step over it to get at her. Or maybe he doesn’t _want_ to get at her. Despite the terror of the moment, White can’t help but wonder how he can look and sound so much like one of them when he’s very clearly an alien. He speaks without flaw, though he’s usually stingy with his words. “What makes you… what makes you so sure you can’t reason with me?”

He snarls, tentacles flaring enough to reveal the rows of teeth nearer his mouth. She presses flat against the wall. “Because we’ve tried. When we try, you airlock us!”

“Cyan, please, you’re trying now, aren’t you? That’s why you didn’t…” She pauses, realizing it has to be true. “It’s why you didn’t kill me when I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I don’t want to kill innocent people,” he says, deflating. Quite literally it seems, his back straightening, hands shrinking back into nothing more than five-fingered appendages. The tentacles tuck back up under his visor, and he lets out a noise that might be a sigh. “I signed up to fight the aliens who came to our planet and murdered our children, not… not scientists being lied to!”

“Cyan-” Just keep saying who it is, if she dies, hopefully someone heard her. “That’s understandable, but-”

Wait. Murdered _whom!?_

“I don’t know! All the mechanisms are in order!” snarls Pink, trying to wrench at the override to medbay doors. Between the crew, half the damn wall’s being disassembled, but they still can’t figure out what the Impostor -Cyan, even if White wasn’t clearly making a point to keep addressing him by name, the fact that he’s the only person on crew NOT present would give it away- did to seal the doors.

Red has the door controls disassembled, and is trying to rewire them. Yellow shifts, anxious and terrified they’re going to listen to White die. As long as they can hear her talking, they need to work.

Why is Blue dropping her tools!? Why is Purple covering his chest like he’s been hurt!?

Blue’s leaned up on the wall, staring at Yellow’s PDA as if stricken, and Yellow looks down, and actually listens to what’s being said.

“Your… your children,” White says slowly, a swooping sensation in her gut. “Our research teams…”

Cyan lets out a quavering noise that might be sorrow. “The nurseries were supposed to be secure… but… your drilling equipment…”

“They-the steam caverns,” She realizes, her stomach somehow sinking even lower as bile rises in her throat. Polus Lifeform Type X223, special interest. _Make sure to kill as many as you can,_ were the instructions, though not directly stated. “Those _worms…_ ”

So small, helpless… it means… Cyan shifts his weight side to side, and she can’t even be afraid of him right now, she’s too shocked.

“Hatchlings… newborns. _Infants,_ ” he says, and the flat way he says it; controlled yet shaking, is what makes her believe him.

She’s going to be sick. MIRA HQ HAS to know exactly what they’re ordering people to do. Why would they want to commit infanticide!? Impostors are dangerous, yes, but if they’re just defending their own…

Two tendrils poke past the visor, and White can really see the needle-like teeth on them, clearly meant to hold struggling prey. They lift the whole visor and Cyan hisses, revealing that tentacly, toothed maw. Fear remembered, White flinches back from him, even though he’s still six feet away. His voice is a hiss. “You think it’s wrong now. What will you do when they insist that you should… you should murder more of our babies!?”

“I’m not- Cyan, I would absolutely refuse! Gods, I was trying to think up a way to politely refuse when I thought they were just worms!” She wraps an arm around her stomach, taking deep breaths to try and keep the nausea down. “Oh my god, I can’t believe. Not all of the administration can know… I can’t believe… that many people can’t be that evil…”

“You’re always… you were always so kind to everyone,” he says, huffing, and she thinks he might be breathing deeply to calm himself. “It was weird to think that you’d be so kind but not care about killing babies, but there’s always people who see those not like them as… not really people. But you just… you really didn’t know.”

“Gods… no one knows,” she says hoarsely. People need to know they’re invading a world with native people, not just investigating a rock with young life and resources useful to… Resources extremely profitable to MIRA Corp. Fuck. “People need to know about this… this is… oh my god, the sheer size of what MIRA’s doing to keep this covered up… The people they’re letting die because they want Polus...”

“But,” He says, looking at her. “Your leaders know. That’s why they told you to kill our babies.”

“MIRA company execs have to know, but they aren’t… they are NOT our government. MIRA is the biggest in space travel, they have their hands in most of it, but they aren’t the lawmakers,” White bristles. She’s feeling too many things at once; fear for herself, disgust, horror, shame. Cyan’s completely justified, they’re all completely justified. Their children were flash frozen - _killed,_ en mass, then carted away for dissection. She doesn’t want to die, she doesn’t want her friends to die - if she was in Cyan’s place, if she could infiltrate an enemy who had murdered so many -

Oh, she’s on the floor.

“I can’t- I-” Blue’s stuttering. “Did you hear what he said!?”

“I don’t CARE!” Pink pretty much roars. “White’s in there and she’s gonna DIE if we don’t get her out!”

“Get her out, we catch the Impostor, we figure it out then!” Yellow agrees, helping Brown try to wrench at a gear in the door mechanism. _Don’t think about it, don’t think about how you’d do the exact same in that situation just pull the damn lever._ There’s a sudden _CLUNK!_ And the doors crash and shift by less than an inch-

The doors slam. White tenses, looking up. No, they’re still - they’re still closed. Cyan lets out a noise that might be a small shriek, and she flinches back, scooching on her butt. He’s not looking at her, he’s looking at the doors.

“Shit - I need a prybar!” Is that Black’s voice?

“They’re all -” Cyan’s posture relaxes slightly when he realizes the door won’t open. He swings back around, looking at White, then down. Down at… her PDA. He picks it up, and she knows he cut the call. “Oh, you got a call out.”

His voice is… sad, regretful. He looks at her again, flexing his hands, claws extending again, and White pulls herself back until her shoulders hit the wall. _Stand up, stand up, stand UP. He might be terrifying but that doesn’t mean you might not surprise him in a fight, GET UP!_ She tries to scramble to her feet, but her legs won’t work. A second try and she manages it, but she needs the wall for support.

The line disconnects, Yellow’s mouth is dry. She wants to peek through the cracked doors, see if White’s still hanging in there, see what the Impostor is doing, but Black is trying to pry out a bit of metal that’s keeping the doors from opening, they need room to work.

Cyan’s talking, Yellow thinks. She can hear his voice, though it's impossible to understand over Black’s huffs for air, trying to push the door, Pink quietly cursing as he hovers, flexing his hands, just waiting to pounce on the Impostor the moment he can.

“I thought -” It’s White! She’s still talking! Pink falls silent but Black huffs even harder, fighting the jammed doors. “I thought you were going to kill me. So I figured I might as well warn everyone else.”

“I just…” Cyan says, his voice is… normal now. Barely heard over the straining on the other side of the doors. His posture is defeated. “I just needed to see if you could understand, but -”

“ _I do_ , I do, oh my god, how could you do anything different but fight when - when we - your children,” she whispers, the words a struggle. He takes a step around the scanner towards her and she can feel how hard she’s shaking by the way it rattles her envirosuit against the wall. “I don’t want to die.”

He stops, just outside arm’s reach, his tentacles dangling down, though their tips twitch. White glances at his hands. The claws are still out - no wait, only the last three fingers of each hand has a claw. That’s odd. She wants to look, scientific curiosity winning over fear a moment, and then his hands flex, and the fear’s back. Those claws could easily rend her open.

 _SLAM!_ from the doors, Cyan jerks around. They’re open maybe a foot. White can see Black, and there’s Red, he’s trying to fit between the doors, but his oxygen tank’s in the way. Cyan lets out a murderous hiss in the direction of the rest of the crew and whirls, White flinches, thinking he’s going to kill her -

Another _SLAM!_ Running feet. She opens her eyes. The doors are open, people pouring in. She turns her head, everything’s in slow motion. Where’s Cyan?

The vent in the corner clatters shut. He’s gone. It’s over.

She hits the ground again, retching. By the time Yellow and Purple have made it to her, she’s curled around her stomach, trying to breathe.


	2. Tension climbing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so. Yeah, so much for that being a oneshot. I'm 45 pages in and I think I'm nearing the end now, but... yeaaah.
> 
> Have a chapter 2. Chapter 1 has been beta-read now, so there's a bunch of minor edits.
> 
> To clarify, I consider the crewmates to be “human, but a little to the left” for the purposes of this fic. They’re human-like aliens, but the color-names mean something based in their culture/biology. Mention of earth animals is basically because it’s easier to know the reader understand what I’m talking about, so consider a slightly alien version of W/E animals.
> 
> Mention of Mandalorian-like face hiding culture, as per discussion with steamwhistle, whose art is responsible for starting my ideas.

Cafeteria again. The mood this time is mixed, but all negative. Yellow heaves a big sigh, watching as Purple puts a blanket over White’s shoulders. The Physicist has taken over as their chief medical officer for the moment, considering White can’t treat herself, even if she was in a state to do so. She’s yanked off half her gear, claiming she can’t breathe in it, leaving herself wearing only her lower clothes, light undershirt, and helmet. She keeps toying with the helmet, obviously wanting it off, but they have no veils.

Yellow’s half-tempted to tell her to just take it off anyway. It was a nasty situation, no one would judge White for needing air right now. Maybe there’s a diplomatic way of suggesting it…

She goes to make a cup of strong tea, glancing around. Pink is stalking circles around the room, Brown and Black have their heads together, inspecting the bit of metal that had been used to jam the medbay doors shut. Green, Lime, and Red are sitting together, talking in low voices, glancing around nervously on occasion. Blue and Orange are sitting alone; Orange at one of the far tables that can be set up for private eating, and Blue on the floor against the wall, arms over her head.

The tea should be strong enough now. She brings it over to White and sets it down. “Here. If we had bourbon, I’d add in a shot.”

“If you had bourbon, I’d pour out the tea and ask you to fill the cup,” White answers, deadpan. She pulls the blanket around herself a bit more tightly as Purple gently takes her hand to check her pulse. Normally such things should be done in medbay, but considering that everything went down in there, it seemed better to be out here, with everyone. White seems to agree, leaning until her elbows are on the table. “God.”

“You were incredible,’ Yellow tells her, sincerely. “We could hear you on the comms, you stalled him.”

White shakes her head. “I… No. I don’t think he wanted to kill me. You heard. You heard all of it?”

“I was only really listening to hear if you were still alive,” Yellow admits. “But there was something about… children?”

“I couldn’t do much while everyone was on the door,” Purple says, tone grim. “I heard it. He said he’s native to Polus, that our research teams have been… harvesting their children. That’s why they’re attacking crews.”

Oh. Yellow looks at the table, processing that.

“The… the worms that I got that priority ping about,” White says, toying with her tea, but not lifting her helmet to drink as Yellow hoped. “Blue was… sort of right. They _are_ Impostors. But they’re babies. MIRA’s been ordering people to kill them.”

“They’re dangerous! That’s why!” Pink explodes. Yellow startles, but White jumps, dropping her cup of tea and trying to escape the bench she’s sitting on. Pink winces. “Shit, I’m sorry, White.”

White takes a deep breath, shoulders trembling. Then she lets it all out. “Pink… I bet you’d be pretty dangerous too if you were faced with people who had killed scores of our children.”

“That’s - he- It. It was LYING,” Pink snaps, hands balled into fists. “Had to have been lying! There’s no way! That’s cartoon levels of villainy for MIRA to be doing this! It’s a smart parasite, that’s all.”

“Pink…” Blue’s voice is very quiet, almost unheard. Entirely possible that Pink misses it in his frustration.

“That’d mean MIRA is knowingly, WILLINGLY sending people into an active warzone without telling us! That they’re using us to - to unknowingly commit genocide! That’s not… people couldn’t… No. The Parasite’s lying. Cyan’s dead, that thing’s just using his voice to try and trick us!”

Yellow cringes at the thought.

“So he went from healthy to fully infected in thirteen days? Is that what you’re saying?” Purple asks. “Are there more parasites on this ship? How many? Are we all going to be infected?”

Pregnant pause as everyone contemplates that horrific scenario.

White quietly sits back down, reaching to steal Purple’s ever-present clipboard. He lets it happen, and White starts working on a sheet of fresh paper. “I thought of that, in the moment,” she tells the room, her voice soft but unshaking. “You said that everyone on the _Kormrant_ had been medically cleared too. So then it becomes a question of how the parasites got into people after medical clearance. Are they living in the ships? Can’t be our envirosuits, every person is issued brand-new fitted ones, no reusing them. There’ve been Impostor attacks in many ships, on stations, on planetoids. Are that many people not following cleansuit procedures after handing alien specimens? Is the Parasite some kind of spore in the air?”

“It’s not…” Blue finally speaks up. “How come we’ve never met someone half-infected? How come as soon as they’re infected they’re trying to kill us? Someone who realizes they’re sick… they’d have gone to another person for help. How come we’re supposed to get rid of all the… the evidence as soon as we even suspect someone might be an Impostor?”

Yellow looks to Pink, expecting a rebuttal, but he’s holding very still. Finally, he comes to sit at the table, a couple seats away from White and Purple. Yellow takes the moment to sit at the same table, which invites the rest of the crew to do the same. Blue lands heavily in her seat, Red straddles the bench, left leg jittering anxiously.

“He said that,” White says. “He said…”

She lifts her PDA, all calls between crew and captain recorded. The call starts again, from Cyan’s initial screech to warn White away from the PDA, to every word said between them. White fast-forwards, then pauses it. “No… he said it before I called.. It was… he said ‘they tell you parasites because then you’re too scared to investigate… So you - we - remove evidence that they’re lying to you. You do it for them.’ Something like ‘they’re your people and they’re lying to you.’”

She trails off.

“If it’s an alien, why’s it look like us?” Pink challenges. White looks at him, then picks up the clipboard she’s been working on, writing, no, sketching away. Yellow glances over her shoulder and stares. White looks at her sketch, then slides the whole clipboard to Pink.

“Does that look like it was ever a man, Pink?”

Pink takes the clipboard and examines White’s sketch. The hinged visor with fanged tentacles, the clawed hands, the stance unnatural. “This is… what it looked like?”

“Yes, and his voice was… when he got agitated, it was like two people speaking in perfect synchronization. I doubt a parasite would cause him to grow a second set of vocal chords.”

Pink stares at the clipboard until Green takes it to look at, shaking his head in disbelief. The sketch is passed around. White’s got a simple, scientist’s hand when it comes to illustration, but the sketch gets the idea across.

“The thing that convinced me, that really convinced me…” White says. “Is the medical clearance thing. Parasites would be caught. People who have it but aren’t fully converted yet, like Blue said. People who just caught it and don’t know. But we only ever hear of full-on Impostors. Impostors have personnel records, histories, they come in with medical clearances and their training on file… They’re people, people who are in the system somehow.”

“Shit,” says Red, with feeling. “You’re right. If a parasite turned people so crazy that they have no self-control about killing other people, they wouldn’t be able to blend in as well, they wouldn’t be able to do all the things we’ve been warned about like causing reactors to meltdown, or breaking comms. Those are the actions of a person in full command of their thoughts.”

“I just… if they’re native to Polus… how did Cyan get to the station?” Pink asks, voice small. “How did any of them get there?”

“They must’ve come back with crews that were there already,” says Orange. “Ergh… maybe they’re just taking the places of people they’ve killed. There could have been a real Cyan who was supposed to be in our crew and that alien killed him and took his suit.”

“Yeah, but…” says Lime warily. “If that’s the case… he wouldn’t have had compunctions about killing White. He pretty clearly did.”

“I thought it was weird that MIRA wants us to collect - kill all those worms,” White says. “I was writing a letter asking for explanations as to why we should wipe out populations of native life. He read it. He said he was here to kill invaders, not misled scientists.”

“I just… I just can’t believe MIRA is that evil,” Pink says. “I know corporations usually have a dark heart and they don’t really care a lot about individuals. But… but infanticide? _Genocide!?_ Add in that they would have to KNOW they’re sending us all in to our potential deaths because we’d be following orders to MURDER children. I just…”

“I know,” White shivers.

Yellow sighs, rubbing the back of her helmet. “It’s all - this is messed up. But we can’t forget that the Impostor is on the Ship. Sympathetic cause or not, I’d still prefer not to be killed. Maybe he doesn’t have a taste for murder, maybe he only hesitated over White and the rest of us don’t fall under that same blanket of concern. Maybe he’ll decide he’s cornered and decide to try and protect himself by offing us. Even if what he told White is true, I want him removed as a threat - that means under CONTROL. Not out the airlock. Pink, what do you know that we can use?”

“I…” Pink tucks a hand to the chin of his helmet. “This is already out of normal scope. I’ve never, ever, heard of an Imposter lasting more than ten days without killing. I don’t know if they are actually eating people like was assumed but… Well, White’s sketch looks like a carnivore to me. He - it’s going to be hungry.”

“Poppet,” White says quietly. “He didn’t confirm my guess about what happened to her but…”

“Oh,” Blue sniffs once; she was the one to bring the caniform aboard, she’d had her for years.

“Well… better her than us,” says Pink slowly. “That’s… yeah, never heard of them killing pets before. They lock doors and sabotage shit, but with the doors it’s always been a short circuit that’ll correct itself after a few minutes or a simple jam in the override. That was a complex sabotage to the door, plus the Impostor must’ve timed putting in that bit of metal as the doors were closing so they’d be locked. Cyan’s not following the usual patterns, even before he decided to try and talk.”

“He said he wanted to wait until we were out of range of the hyperspace rescue shuttles,” White adds.

“Oh, yikes,” mutters Lime. Yellow concurs. That’s planning.

“Can we turn the ship around? Call HQ?” Suggests Brown. That’s procedure: there’s been an Impostor attack, tell HQ what’s happening. But.

“If he’s telling the truth, and we call HQ… Even if we don’t tell them what he claims,” Yellow says. “If any bit of it is true, suddenly we’re a threat to their operational security. I can’t… unless we can prove that he is a parasite spinning a massive lie, reporting this incident to HQ makes us a liability to their opsec.”

Silence.

“We should call SEEEB,” muses Red “If Mira isn’t checking our comm records at the time, they won’t know. If they do happen to catch us doing it, well, at least word’s out.” Yellow looks at him and nods approval. She hadn’t come around to thinking about the Space Exploration Ethics Enforcement Bureau yet.

“How can we know for sure?” asks Pink quietly. “We can’t just take its word for it.”

“White should see about getting more data on those worms MIRA company wants, the… babies,” Purple says, clearly thinking. White toys with her blanket, looking at him. “If so many have been collected, there’ll be DNA samples, lots of them. If we can get a sample off Cyan, well, first it’d prove that there’s only alien DNA there, but it would also confirm that they’re the same species.”

“So we need to catch the Impostor,” says Orange. “And we need to stay secure.”

“Well, we know who it is, so that’s one up on every previous expedition,” Pink muses. “Stay in pairs at the least. This one’s acting different, but they never attack more people at a time than there are of them. The cases when two would be attacked at once, either there were two Impostors, or those Impostors that attacked pairs were almost always caught because even if they killed one person, the other would take off screaming. Most won’t do that, they try to catch people alone.”

“... I hate to be That Guy,” says Black. “But how do we really know that there’s only the one Impostor?”

Everyone glances around the table at each other, Pink sighs.

“And this would be why things really went to hell in a handbasket after my past crews found out there was an… an _Infection.”_

“Whatever the case is…” says White. “Whatever is under that helmet isn’t a face the way we know it. Not with those tentacles.”

That said, she reaches up and pulls off her helmet. Everyone stares at her a long moment, then remembers their manners and looks away from her face. Yellow contemplates the statement, then nods, undoing her neck seal and pulling off her helmet. Proper social graces can take a backseat to survival and group unity for a minute. The crew glances at her, then hands around the table come up, pulling their helmets off.

It takes only a glance to see that all eleven are what they should be expected to be, under the helmets.

“Shit,” says Black. Yellow looks at them. “Culture really fucks us over here, when a squid-monster can take advantage of it to hide among us.”

That actually earns a couple of snickers around the table, and the helmets go back on. Yellow outlines an updated schedule that keeps people in twos or threes at all times. Night shift is still three people, someone MUST be on cams at all times.

“What about four on nights?” says Pink. “Two can patrol, two can be on cams. Otherwise you might as well only have two if they all have to stay in security anyway.”

Yellow considers that, looking at her pad. “What about one person locked in Security and two patroling?”

“There’s a vent in security,” objects Blue. “I’d spend more time staring at it than the screens if I was alone.”

“Surely we can secure those shut, can’t we?” offers Orange. “Impact drivers and a bunch of screws? I’m amazed that it isn’t already protocol.”

“I’m in favor of that,” says Pink viciously. “Lock all the vents and let it starve.”

“Pink!” squawks Red.

“What? Let it get weak and hungry in there, then offer it the chance to live if it surrenders,” Pink says darkly. “It’ll be easier to keep control of the situation.”

“I refuse,” White says, voice shaking. “Absolutely not. He spared me - spared all of us by trying to approach me like that. He could’ve picked us off one by one in a night if he can do doors like that. If he can try the humanitarian approach when we’re invaders, I’m not going to torture him in return.”

Everyone looks at her, then at Pink, then Yellow. But if White can demand a peaceful solution after what happened, then no one seems ready to raise objection to that.

* * *

Stupid. So stupid. Should’ve just followed mission parameters. Should’ve killed her when she was cornered.

_“I don’t want to die,” White says tremulously, pressed back against the wall. She’s innocent, she didn’t know, and she didn’t like the idea before she even knew they were children._

Claws scrape against the wall, and the Impostor sighs. Couldn’t do it. Couldn’t look an innocent person in the eye and kill them. No wonder the rule is to do it when their backs are turned. Easier that way, less personal. They could’ve done it though, if she was guilty of it. If she’d been willing to murder.

No one’s come to Cyan’s personal quarters yet, which they think is… odd. They pick up the PDA that was assigned to their assumed identity, and scroll through it. They’re useful, the little handheld computers, but they’re tracked in Admin. Best leave it in the room, hope they leave it here too. Can come back in when they’re not looking.

Under the beds there are ventilation shafts. Small, but the Impostor can squeeze in, though they need to shove their helmet down the hole first and squish their body down, using tentacles to pull themself into the larger ducts. They glance at the door. Code-locked, like any private room, but they’re sure that at some point the crew will gain entry and search it.

They glance around the room. There are personal touches; these people would’ve found it odd if there weren’t. The Impostor has a couple posters they like that they picked up on the station, cute dangly lights that remind them of the bioluminescent cave-worms from home. A few other miscellaneous decorations. No clothes in the drawers or cupboards, though.

They turn out the main light and lay on the floor, looking up at the fake glow-worms and pretending for a few minutes that they’re back home, away from the main homes for the moment, that they can just get up and walk back…

The door beeps, and the Impostor rolls over and darts under their bed, tentacles pulling the drawer back into place behind them, and hurriedly, they start squirming down the ventilation shaft.

Another beep, and the door opens. The Impostor’s most of the way down the vent, but they freeze, not wanting to be heard and caught when vulnerable.

“Huh,” sounds like… Lime. “Pretty.”

“Yeah, I stuck my head in to ask him something once and I thought the lights were nice,” Yellow’s voice. The Impostor is tense, listening to them. “Ah, yeah, there’s his PDA. Let’s see..”

There’s rustling around the room, but also the sound of someone sitting on the bed. Nothing to do but listen to them.

“There’s absolutely nothing in the drawers,” Lime comments. “No clothes, no personal effects…”

“Mmm,” Yellow sounds distracted. “PDA’s… he used it for a few crew messages, he’s getting technician tasking updates… a couple games. Ah… a lot of ‘net searches for various… concepts I guess, or… hmm… looks like he spent a lot of time researching language.”

“Well I mean, if he’s an alien trying to pass as one of us, he needs to be fluent, right?” Lime says, opening the under-bed drawers. “Not a damn thing. Does he only have the envirosuit!?”

It takes effort for the Impostor to not laugh. Nope, not even an envirosuit. Clothing is oppressive and unnecessary.

“Okay…” Yellow says slowly. “Guess I’ll send the message to his PDA and hope he comes back for it?”

“I mean, he might not. It’d mean coming down the hall past everyone else’s rooms, and he obviously didn’t want to stick around once there were more of us,” muses Lime. “Maybe drop it down one of the vents? He’ll be testing all of them once he finds the first one sealed.”

They’re sealing the vents!? _Damnit!_

“Hmm, yeah, he’ll find it that way,” Yellow hums. “Here’s hoping he does uh… read the message and all. Shit, this is complicated.”

“Well, I mean… botched first contact and all that.”

“So you’re convinced on the alien, not parasite thing?” Yellow asks. The Imposter blinks, listening intently.

“I… yeah,” Lime huffs out a sigh. “Signs point to group organization in these infiltrations. Unless these are some super parasites turning people into a hive mind, aliens who’ve learned our tech seems more likely, especially considering how sharp Cyan is. That sabotage on medbay doors? Damn, am I glad he didn’t go after the reactor.”

Well, they might, if it comes to that. Would prefer not to die.

“Right, yeah,” Yellow gets off the bed. The Impostor hears the PDA assigned to their assumed identity chirp happily. They huff softly, listening as Yellow and Lime head for the door. “Don’t forget to prop this open.”

“Yeah I have the bar,” Lime says. “So have you heard back from the Ethics Board yet?”

What’s an Ethics Board? They know the two words but they don’t understand how they combine. Damnit, they need that PDA.

“They returned my ping saying they’ll set up a secure line. Comm appointment at 0830 tomorrow sharp,” Yellow answers. “They said to report everything normal to MIRA corporation until they’ve gone over what we have to tell them.”

Wait, what? They haven’t reported that the Impostor’s on the ship? Some sort of secure meeting? Maybe they can eavesdrop from the vents - no, no, there’s none in Communications…

There’s the noise of some heavy metal thing being moved around, and finally the footsteps retreat. The Impostor carefully pulls themself from the small vent and pushes out one of the drawers under the bed to peer out.

Bedroom door’s propped open so anyone passing by can see in. How rude! With a huff, the Impostor drops back down into the ventilation system, and heads for an intersection in the vents, where they can stretch out and consider their next move.

* * *

//“These are incredibly serious accusations,”// says the Ethics representative on screen. She’s got her hands folded under her chin, causing her veil to bunch up. All White can see of this Taupe’s face is the shadow of thinly pressed lips. //“The evidence you have so far is… I’m feeling convinced, just from your sketch of the Alien and description of events, but I agree. We need a DNA sample to compare to the worms that MIRA wants collected...”//

“We’re trying,” Yellow assures Taupe. “But we’re breaking MIRA protocols so much on the whole situation. They’re going to have questions for us.”

//“Mmm, yes,”// Taupe considers. //“I have just the agent to assign to your case. He actually used to work for MIRA corporation and did a mission to Polus. He’s been trying to get a proper investigation into Mira’s policies on Impostors for years now, but the company has been very good at keeping everything internal. He’ll be delighted for something that could help the case. This is big. But to get a secure relay between yourselves and us, we need evidence to prove that this Cyan is not something that’s overtaken one of ours. Even if he is… if these are sapient parasites that are defending their young and to do so they’ve taken hostiles as hosts… well, it’s not as tidy, but it’s still a horrible situation MIRA is worsening. Ideally, evidence that the company knows all this and are hiding it would really slam dunk the case, but any knowledge helps.”//

White considers that possible angle, and can’t help but agree. “We’ll do our best.”

Taupe nods. //“I would recommend that you continue to report situation normal to the company until you have the situation under control or Cyan proves to be hostile. However, I cannot order you to break company policy without a clear indication that said policy is illegal or unethical.”//

“Duly noted,” says Yellow. “Thank you.”

The connection cuts, and Yellow sighs.

“Isn’t it nice being on a peaceful ship?” asks Purple. White buries her helmet in her hands and starts giggling. Yellow sighs again.

* * *

_Hungry._

_It’s only been a day since you ate, you can survive a month and a half after gorging. Deal with it._

Yes, but it’s only been meals with the crew, but they can’t take all meat or it looks weird, and vegetables are useless, can’t eat them. Before that, they could get bigger portions of meat on station, but still… meals have been small. They were sustaining, but just barely. The caniform… _Poppet…_ They had been just so hungry…

_You did this to yourself. Deal with it. Follow trained procedure and kill the invaders. There’s meat there._

They can’t do it. The crew is open to a truce, says the message Yellow sent their PDA, which was dropped down one of the vents in the cafeteria. They need evidence that they can send to that ‘ethics board’ that proves the relationship between the Impostor and the Babies-they-think-are-worms. They’re offering kindness. Hope.

_Scared._

Impostors are strong, one can catch one of the Invaders off guard, overpower them. But not that strong. One is easily overwhelmed by two of the Invaders, maybe against two they could use tentacles and teeth to catch and strangle and rend, but there would be a struggle, there would be screaming. There would be notice. Tentacles are muscular, but Invaders could rip them off, working together. If the Impostor goes out to accept the crew’s offer and it’s nothing but an attractive lie… They could be tricked and dragged out and killed for study. Or worse, kept alive for study.

The Imposter who was known as Cyan whines softly to themself. _Okay, breathe, ignore the hunger. Take stock of the situation._

_All vents but one are sealed. The one in the hall outside navigation is open, under a camera. The light is always blinking, someone is watching, can see it when I check. My bedroom is propped open and I can’t reseal it without fighting that bar they’ve jammed in the doors, and someone would hear it and there’d be no escape. Managed to swipe a few of the tool kits assigned to my assumed persona._

They pause, hearing indistinct voices and dragging themself through the vent until they’re under the access to Security. Red, Black and Green arguing with Pink. Pink is still calling them an “It.” The Impostor understands; Pink’s fought their kind before, Pink might’ve even killed one on another ship, they don’t know. Pink doesn’t talk too much about details. Pink’s conscience can’t stand the idea that they killed a real person. That people he knew have killed _children_. He’s in denial. It makes him the most dangerous to the Impostor. People everywhere are the same; they’ll dig the pit deeper to avoid facing the truth of what they’ve done.

If they have to kill, he needs to be first. But do they? Red seems convinced that They’re reasonable. After all, ‘he’ tried to talk to White, tried to find a peaceful solution. Apparently Red thought They were a decent individual when They were pretending to be one of them, and it’s easier to be oneself than to be ‘an asshole and act like a nice guy.’

That’s… kind of Red. The Impostor lifts themself up the vent a little to peek at the group. Red’s leaned on the security console, not watching the screens, but Green is. Black and Pink are sitting on folding chairs that must’ve been brought in from the cafeteria. Four of them in here, damn.

“Augh!” Pink throws his hands up, and the Impostor jumps, nearly hitting their head on the vent grate. They freeze, but no one appears to have noticed them. “I’m going to do a patrol! I need to walk off some tension. Who’s coming with me?”

“I’ll go,” says Green, standing up. Red sighs and sits down, taking over the screen. The Impostor huffs, sliding down to the bottom of the vent and sitting there as they contemplate everything.

Maybe Yellow was hoping to get a message back, that’s why she left the PDA where they could find it again. Hm…

They activate it, noting the remaining charge is only 3%, and read through the message again, considering how to reply to it this time.

They start to type up their response, when there’s a beeping from inside the security room. They look up as one of the two in there picks up a call.

//”We’re in admin,”// comes Pink’s voice over the comms. //”You two still okay in there?”//

“We’re fine,” Black answers back.

//”Cyan’s PDA is showing as in security.”//

“Oh.”

Oh.

Oh _shit!_

The Impostor looks at their almost-dead PDA, then hums, using one of their lower arms - a long, flexible, three-fingered tentacle, really, to hurriedly put it on the lip under the vent. The Impostor presses their arm against the vent wall, themself to the floor, changing their color to match the shade of the vent wall and hoping they don’t look too closely.

Though… maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to be spotted?

“Huh, his PDA’s half-poked through the vent,” says Black. The Impostor holds very still as a light shines down on them. “He must’ve left it here for some reason. Oh, the battery’s almost dead.”

“Plug it into a charger then once it’s done, drop it back down the vent,” suggests Red’s voice. The light moves away from the vent, and the Impostor sighs in relief. “Shit, he’s quiet. Wonder how long that’s been there.”

“No idea,” answers Black. “Pink, we’re all good - looks like Cyan left us his dead PDA. We’re gonna charge it and drop it back down the vent.”

//”Feh, good thing we were in a group and the vent hatch is sealed,”// Pink replies tersely. The call cuts.

“Hooo, he’s not handling this great, is he?” Red muses.

“Jeez, man, if I’d killed an animal in self-defence then found out later it was actually a person, I’d feel pretty shitty too, even if I was completely justified,” Black answers. "Except for Pink it turns out the fucking other person was justified too."

Yup. The Impostor can agree with that sentiment. They slink down the vents, contemplating their need for food.

* * *

They poke out into their room, cautiously sliding the drawer out from under their bed. The bedroom light is off, at least, the outside hall dark. They carefully slide out and look around. Hmm… maybe they could pass as one of the crew… wouldn’t be too difficult… They could pass for Lime, White, Red or Yellow, probably. They’re close enough in height and breadth to any of those people. Hmm… maybe Blue… She’s shorter, but broader. The Impostor can deal with that for a little while…

Red’s in security so…

They sit on their bunk, focusing on their mental image of Lime. The helmet won’t be perfect, but maybe folding a couple feeder tentacles will help. They go stand in front of the mirror, watching to ensure they have it right. Color is no trouble at all, which is good, because it’s hard to check that in the dark. Perfect.

They step out of their room and start for the exit of the personnel quarters, pausing at the hallway threshold when they detect movement. Oh, just another companion animal. A feliform that had been adopted into the ship as a mascot and emotional support animal. Apparently, sometimes, someone just really needs a friendly critter to pet. The feliform meows at them, and they consider the situation a moment.

They’ve eaten one of the ships’ pets so far. Poppet was a cute creature, and the thirty pounds of her went a long way to sustaining the Impostor. It’d been so easy; they’d given a little whistle, picked her up in their arms, and walked to a quiet, dark room before doing the deed.

The feliform, Royal, meows at them again. Probably hungry.

“You and me both,” The Impostor tells him, kneeling down and holding out a hand. The feliform walks right up and nuzzles their hands, and it’d be so easy…

There’s a little purr, the feliform pressing in closer to demand attention. The Impostor sighs and picks up Royal, scratching him behind the ears. They can’t do it, not again. They’re a predator, yes, they’ve hunted for food plenty of times in their life. But this is a domestic creature, a pet. It trusts them. It feels whatever its version of love is, even, thinks the Impostor, watching the feliform try to roll for belly rubs.

_No. It’d be easier to kill and eat a person if… if the person was evil…_

_They’re supposed to be evil, not kind people being misled…_

They sigh, letting Royal clamber up their shoulder, the felide snuggling close.

The sound of a door opening, and the Impostor freezes. Royal ‘mrrps’.

“Oh- Oh, Lime, hey.”

_Shit. Okay, you know Lime’s voice, use it._

“Hey White, how’re you?”

“Can’t sleep,” White says with a sigh, audibly yawning. “But I’m alright. Thought I heard a voice out here and came to look. How’re you?”

“Just… ah… just hungry. Thought I’d get something to eat,” the Impostor absently scratches Royal’s chin, the feliform purring and kneading at their shoulder. Ouch, sharp little claws! Shit, Lime’s more talkative than this. “Sorry to d- bug you.”

“It’s alright. Uh… do you want me to come with you to Cafeteria? I don’t think Cyan’s a threat, but Yellow’s serious about the pairs rule, and Pink will definitely yell at you.”

Pairs rule? Hmm… Well, might as well take the opportunity presented.

“Yeah, you’re right,” They rub the back of their head awkwardly, slurring their works a little to mimic sleepiness. “I was… hesitating about going further, but I didn't wan’to wake anyone. Figured Royal’s company enough.”

White chuckles, reaching up and patting Royal’s head. “Well, he is very fierce. I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea.”

The Impostor-disguised-as-Lime nods, faking a yawn of their own as they set Royal on the ground. “Well, let’s go, and as a team, so Pink can’t yell at us.”

Another chuckle out of White, and despite themself, the Impostor’s happy to make her laugh. She deserves it, not the fear they made her feel before.

Others would’ve said they ought to have killed her. All logic screamed at them to, several times over. They almost had, unhinging their visor, harpoon muscles tightening in preparation to fire...

Well… they didn’t do it, and anyway, everyone was listening in, it turns out, so… yeah. Not their finest hour after all that planning. Should’ve broken the PDA if they weren’t going to keep holding it! Oh well…

If the crew’s working in pairs, and they do have to start killing, they’ll need to be very strategic. Perhaps cutting lights, taking advantage of more than just the vents. There’s also the fact that they just have to avoid being caught, considering everyone knows it’s them. Though… the crew doesn’t know they can make themself look like several of them…

_This is complicated, ugh._

“You alright?”

They startle, looking at White. “I- uh… yeah, sorry. Just… you know.”

“Yeah,” White sighs. “No kidding. I just… I know it was the smart thing to do, but I feel like I messed it all up, you know?”

“What do you mean?” asks the false Lime. “You’re alive. You did pretty good.”

“I know, it’s… I don’t know, I keep having this fantasy where I didn’t put that call out and we had all the time in the universe to talk and he explained it to me and then I could’ve gone and told everyone else... “ White shakes her head. “We could’ve had peace. I know it’s silly.”

They don’t think it’s silly. It’s a nice thought. White’s a good person; after what they did to her, she’s still thinking about them with concern, considering the big picture. “You survived. So, I’d say you did things right.”

“Thanks, Lime.”

They get to the cafeteria and White wanders over to the snack bar to make some tea. The Impostor goes into cold storage and contemplates what meats they can get away with taking. Oh, hmm, this thawed roast…

They grab it and move it behind their back, their dorsal tentacles grasping it, and it hides nicely in the space that looks like an oxygen tank. That’s seven or eight pounds. Enough to gorge on with their empty stomach, and have staying power for a few days. Twice or three times that would do them for a couple weeks, but they can’t risk stealing so much that’d be noticed. Plus, gorging that much would leave them with a showing belly if they need to try and pass as crew. Instead, they pick up some cheese, which, while not part of their natural diet, seems to not cause digestive upset, and some smoked meats, which honestly, they do prefer over raw.

“Do you want me to make up a plate for you too?” they ask in Lime’s voice, setting down their ingredients and rummaging in a cupboard for crackers. Those they won’t eat, but taking just the meat and cheese would look odd.

“Oh,” White glances over. “Yes please, that’d be great, thank you.”

The Impostor picks up a knife and gets to slicing everything, and if they stack fewer crackers on their plate than they should, well… who’s counting? They make sure White has plenty for herself, though.

Approaching footsteps make them tense, but they force themself to relax, remaining focused on what they’re doing. Only when White shifts and looks up with a little ‘hi guys’ does the Impostor also look up, putting on an air of surprise.

“Hey Pink, Green.” Crap, do _nothing_ suspicious. “Want some?”

“Nah, I’m good,” says Pink, putting his hands on the table. “How’s it going?”

“Mm, got hungry, White was up, so we came down together,” says Not-Lime. Shit, no, don’t change color, fading to match the color of the floor will not help at all right now. Relax.

“Hm,” Pink nods, glancing at White. “How’re you holding up?”

“Oh, fine,” White says, coming back with two mugs of tea, putting one in front of the Impostor. “Sorry, did either of you want some?”

Both Pink and Green shake their heads. The Impostor idly looks at the tea, accepting one of the straws that the crew uses when imbibing drinks around each other, before returning to slicing cheese and meats. Hot water with a little plant matter for taste. Funny concept, but it’s pleasant. Hmm… best get back to safety before they suspect something’s off about Lime. Oh shit, how bad would it be if the actual Lime decided to wander in right about now?

… Can’t use the straw without sticking tentacles past the visor. Hm. They put White’s plate in front of her, then stack their tea on top of their plate, then pick up the packages they used to reseal and put away.

“Aight.” Hopefully got Lime’s mannerisms right. “I’m gonna put this away then hit the hay. White, you coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll try for a little sleep,” She answers, glancing at the night crew. “How’s it been? Anything odd?”

“Eeeeh, not really,” Says Pink breezily.

“Well uh, Cyan was lurking under the security room and left his PDA just under the vent,” Green says. Pink turns his head and the Impostor thinks he’s glaring at the other. Hm. “Black and Red plugged it in to charge.”

“Oh, that’s good,” White says absently, picking up her plate. “He’s been using it if the charge is running out. I hope that means he got the message Yellow sent.”

“Hmmf,” Pink folds his hands together. He seems to relax a bit. Wait, was he worried that White would react badly to mention of Them? “I don’t think we’re getting hands on the Impostor, White. No matter the reality of what it is, it’s smart and if I was in its position I wouldn’t want to be cornered either.”

… Well, they wouldn’t have expected any sympathy from THAT corner. This is a bit surreal. Just gonna casually shuffle a little to the side out of arm’s reach of Green. Is that a telescoping baton on his belt!? Oh shit, Pink has one too. _How about we notice rather relevant details like that!?_

White sighs. “Well, we have to try. I don’t like the alternatives.”

“Mhmm,” the Impostor says, looking at White. “None of us do. White, you sound exhausted.”

“Oh, well I-”

“He’s right,” says Pink solicitously. “It’s been a tough day on you. If you can’t sleep, you’re welcome to hang out in security with us - as long as you don’t mind Black’s occasional pacing.”

White tilts her head in a little smile. “Thank you, I think I’ll drink this and try for a little sleep. Yellow’s been fussing over me like a worried mother. I’d prefer to have work of some sort to do during the day.”

“Ehh, I’ll talk to her,” Pink says. “She’s never dealt with an incident like this -”

“Have any of us?” mutters Green. Not-Lime snorts in amusement.

“- and she’s not thinking about the fact that some routine would probably do you good,” Pink finishes as if he wasn’t interrupted.

“Yeah, I’d enjoy something else to think about,” sighs White. “I keep coming up with alternative scenarios and I’m starting to go a little crazy with them.”

The Impostor winces at that, but it seems to be the appropriate reaction. White clears her throat.

“Anyway! We should head back to bed, get a little rest before morning.”

“Agreed!” the Impostor says, keeping the relief out of their (Lime’s) voice. They walk side by side with White, pausing only to say good night to the patrol team. Well, food acquired, and a little information… that’s good.

Speaking of information. They wait to be around the corner past medbay to pause briefly, kicking at a vent. “Hmm.”

“What is it, Lime?” White asks. The Impostor shrugs.

“Just… checking.”

Screwed in place. They have a matching screwdriver squirreled away in vents. Okay. This can be handled.

“That’s fair,” White says with a sigh. She remains silent until they get back to the Personnel quarters. Automatically, the Impostor aims for their room, then pauses, reaching to turn on the hall light as if that was always their goal. They glance into their locked-open room, and chuckle to see Royal laying sprawled contentedly on their bed. White peeks in as well and hums. “Ah, felides.”

“Who can resist that?” the Impostor says fondly, turning back to White. “Well…”

“Heh, back to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, thanks for escorting me to the cafeteria so I didn’t have to face Pink alone,” the Impostor jokes in their best impression of Lime. White chuckles.

“No problem. You have a good night.”

The Impostor moves towards Lime’s door until White’s into her room, and the door locks behind her. They let out a big sigh of relief and head back into their… well, not really their space, anymore. They get under the bed, their disguise fading into the familiar _Cyan_ shape, and pull the drawer closed before drinking the cup of tea and digging into the cheese and smoked meats. After a day of no food, it’s heavenly, and there’s still the raw roast to contend with.

It’s a big hunk of meat and they’d rather cut it and eat it in tidy mouthfuls, but they settle for biting off chunks with the teeth of their jaws, chewing and then swallowing. Cooked definitely tastes better, but this is pretty good. Hunger is all the seasoning they need.

Fed, they drag themself back down into the vents to contemplate their next move until sleep comes.

* * *

Not going to fall asleep on the table, that’d be very embarrassing.

She’s just resting on her elbow…

“White.”

She jolts upright. “Yes?”

“Y’alright?”

“Oh, just a little tired, Lime, you know how it is.”

“Hah, true, happens to all of us sometimes. How you feeling?”

She shrugs, looking around to see that the night crew is tromping into the cafeteria, their strides sleepy. “Alright. I wanted to thank you, actually.”

“Yeah? What for?” asks Lime.

“Well,” White rubs the back of her helmet. “For not treating me like tempered glass about to shatter last night. Almost everyone’s been acting like… I don’t know, I’m about to have a break down or something. That whole thing with Cyan was scary, but I’m processing.”

“.. ah… no problem?” Lime says slowly.

White isn’t paying attention to her tone, looking around as Yellow and Blue walk in, meaning the whole team’s together. “Good morning.”

“Morning!” says Yellow. She turns to the night crew. “Got your message about Cyan leaving his PDA in security. Did you put it back down the vent after it charged?”

“Yeah,” answers Red. “Dunno if he got it back though, the system can’t detect it down the vents.”

“Pity,” Yellow mutters. Discussion turns to the day’s schedule, and how Yellow’s managed to work it so everyone’s in teams, and one team’s in Security at all times. The night crew has a couple tasks to do before they can be sent off to sleep. White lets her attention drift a little.

* * *

Everyone’s in the cafeteria. Now’s the only time to do this. Their lower arms are meant for holding, not delicate work, but they make do, pushing the screwdriver out of the vent, then winding one of the tentacle-arms carefully through the vent slats. It’s tricky to pick up the screwdriver and position it, especially since having to flatten the arm through the vent means they’re missing some motor control at the grasping tip. The three unjointed fingers grip tightly, and they manage to get the screwdriver into place on the first screw.

Then begins the painstaking process of unscrewing all six screws, listening intently for someone’s approach.

They thought about locking Security doors, but the last thing they need is someone looking closely around the room. No, best to avoid playing with the doors for now.

* * *

“I’m glad to hear that everyone’s been sticking to the pairs rule,” Yellow says.

“Yes, it’s not too difficult,” White says. “Lime and I were both up last night so we came down here for a snack. It’s nice to have company, actually.”

“... No?” Lime says. “I slept through the night.”

“Uh,” White can feel herself blinking.

“Nah, you were totally here with White, you were going wild with the cheese and crackers,” Green chuckles. “Don’t lie.”

“Nope, you’re messing with me,” Lime returns, tapping a finger on the table.

“... Lime… your spare suit is… still in your room, right?” says Pink slowly, with a tone of dawning realization.

Suddenly, it occurs to White too. “Oh my god. But… oh my _god._ ”

“What, what am I missing?” Yellow squawks.

“The fucking Impostor wore Lime’s suit and just sauntered around in the middle of all of us!” Pink snarls. “What the fuck!?”

“Language,” scolds Yellow. “We don’t… are you sure-”

“Well it sure wasn’t me wandering around last night,” Lime says. “Oh shit, you all… you all saw ‘me’ in here?”

Nods from White, Green and Pink.

“We… we called Pink and Green to come check on White and… and Lime because we saw them in the halls on the cams,” says Red, taking a shaky breath. “Oh my god, how did he-”

“Pull the footage,” Yellow says sharply, turning to Pink. “I want to review it.”


	3. On The Ethics of Space Exploration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people are handing the whole "Alien among us" thing better than others.
> 
> I had chapter 2 beta-read and reposted it, and chapter 3 is coming to you freshly beta-read too.
> 
> Edit: Thank you Ao3 for eating some of my formatting. Should be fixed now.

_People coming to security! Abort mission!_

They hurriedly pull away from the vent, and are tucked up under the joint where they can’t be seen by the time the group enters the security room. They let out a long breath of air, wondering if their work on the vent is going to be noticed.

“The helmet’s not quite right,” Purple observes, pointing his stylus at the screen. “It’s close, but not quite. Look here, you can see a couple little patches of cyan color.”

“I see it now,” murmurs White. “How come I didn’t notice?”

“You weren’t looking for it,” says Yellow, quietly appalled. It’s unbelievable. Her PDA buzzes, and she answers. “Lime, Orange, report?”

“My spare suit’s still in my room, folded up tidily. I’m not missing anything,” Lime reports. “However he got a suit like me, it wasn’t mine.”

“I don’t understand,” White mutters to herself. Did Cyan paint his suit? How could he so perfectly copy Lime’s voice? “I came out of my room and there’s Lime holding a Felide and petting it. We talked a little, he puts down Royal, and we walked to the Cafeteria.”

“I think you saved Royal’s life,” muses Yellow. “I guess we can safely say that Cyan doesn’t want to hurt you, though.”

White nods at that, letting out a long sigh. Yep, that’s pretty safe to guess. She can’t believe that he somehow… Augh, this is going to throw everyone into a paranoia loop. She sighs, then glances down at her PDA. Well… Yellow sent him a message, yes, but there’s nothing stopping someone else from doing the same, is there?

-> Open private messages

->New message

_Hi Cyan, that was YOU last night!? How did you do that? It’s pretty impressive, but I think Pink’s having a full on meltdown about it. No wonder your people are hard to find._

_I know you don’t want to hurt us and you’re scared of us, that’s why you’re staying in the vents, but we can’t hold this pattern forever. Is there anything I could do to convince you to come out? You’ve been kinder to me than I feel like I deserve, considering what objectives mira gave me. We all want peace on the ship. We’re aliens and enemies to you, but you still tried to approach me, you know I feel like I could’ve done it better. Maybe we can try again?_

She pauses, rereading the note. Someone walks over to her and she looks up, but it’s just Purple. She tilts her PDA to let him read. “Should I… send it?”

“If he knows we realize he somehow camouflaged himself as Lime, he might not do it again,” Purple muses. “Which would be good. It’s a good olive branch, too. It’s worth a try.”

White nods, turning back to her PDA and sending the message.

They hear the ping echo from the vent in the room. As one, the group turns to stare at the grating. White approaches it and peers down the hole.

“Cyan?”

No response. She turns on her helmet lights, but the vent is just a vent. “I can’t see his PDA,” she comments. “He might’ve just left it down there…”

“He seems to like lurking under security,” Yellow sighs. “Well, he can’t do any harm down there.”

White nods, standing up and shaking her head.

_Okay, how about we mute the PDA!_

The Impostor is silently trembling in place, feeling that close call in their gut. They cautiously pull themself deeper into the ventilation system before reading the message sent by… by White?

They blink, reading it over, and letting out a huff of air.

Hmm, busted. Not too surprising. Still, hiding as Lime did its job pretty well; they got a couple days worth of food. They can still do the disguise thing, just have to be sneaky about it.

They consider the ramifications of answering the message, they’re still chewing on Yellow’s offer. Finally, they decide answering won’t hurt. Is there a word in the Invaders’ language that means the right thing? They take a moment to research it, then nod to themself, finding just the right one.

White’s PDA hums, and she glances at it, expecting a ping from HQ.

1 new message from: Cyan.

“Oh!”

“What, what is it?” ask Yellow and Purple in the same breath.

“He responded…”

“Huh, then he is just down there,” Purple peers at the vent, but White’s opening the message to read out loud.

_“I’m a mimic, can change my colors and how I look. It’s what my species does to hide. It’s not your fault.”_

“Huh, well,” says Yellow. “Anything else?”

White shakes her head. “Well, I’m not a psychologist, but his answer is… interesting to me as an Xenobiologist.”

“Well, we just learned he naturally wants to copy other species’ behaviours and looks as a survival mechanism, that is fascinating!” Purple says.

“Yes, but,” White considers. “Hmmm, I need to think about how to phrase it a bit. Maybe I’ll try later.”

She peeks down the vents one last time, just in case.

* * *

So no one noticed that they opened the security vent, huh? Well, that’s good. They can start on all the others, then. Cafeteria first tonight and go from there. Escape routes are good. Might as well nap for a little bit.

_*Ping!*_

They jump. Stars _DAMN_ it, they thought they’d turned off the notification sounds! Oh wait, crew-wide message. Hah, Yellow hasn’t removed them from the crew list?

_Attention all_

_Comm meeting with our official SEEEB contact at 1655 sharp tomorrow. If you have any evidence to pass on regarding the case for Impostors being a people we’re invading, pass it on to me if you don’t want to be present at the meeting itself. Cyan, you too please._

_Yellow_

What.

Just. What. Yellow wants them to… what kind of evidence can they give that isn’t walking into a room full of hostiles and showing off their true shape? Nope. Not happening. They’re staying in the VENTS.

Though… might be a good time to work on the vents and maybe even grab some food… hm…

* * *

What a day, what a day. Red groans, looking at his task list, which seems to be growing exponentially. “I have GOT to go check the wiring in electrical. Last thing we need is the breaker circuits shaking loose because there’s been no maintenance.”

“I can’t leave the security station, half the crew’s at the meeting in comms, most of the rest are sleeping, and Lime and Black are in Nav,” answers Blue, turning her head away from the security monitors for a moment. “So you can’t…”

“Ugh, he got out the once and just went for food,” Red answers. “I don’t think it’s gonna be a problem. Tell you what, watch me go into electrical on cams and I’ll text you every ten minutes to say I’m alright.”

“Ehh,” Blue shifts uncomfortably.

“C’mon, Yellow’s in that meeting with the SEEEB people and Pink’s sleeping off his night shift. No one else on the ship’s gonna give me crap for it, and if they do, I’ll take off my helmet to prove I’m not the Impostor.”

Blue sighs. “Alright… just, be careful.”

Red nods, standing up and heading out the door, sealing it behind him. He heads straight for electrical, grumbling to see the state it’s become in just three days of neglect. Yeah, this’ll be a fire hazard in a couple days if he and Green don’t get to work on it at all. He heads for the safety rerouting lines first: Best check them, then transfer power to run through those while he checks the main systems.

He loses track of time, but his PDA buzzes with a ten-minute timer, so he texts Blue ‘all good’ and gets back to work.

* * *

Carefully now, okay, get the screwdriver through the grating… wasn’t too loud of a clunk, now grab it with your lower arm, there we go… aha!~ in place! Turn, turn turn… uuugh, why did they use such long screws? Cafeteria’s done, at least, but Electrical seems perfect to do next.

There’s a little sound and they pause, but it’s just occasional clicks and rustling. One of the pets? Must be.

Normally, Red would whistle to himself as he works, but he’s focused on the wires, grimacing as he wipes up collected dust. His PDA buzzes for the third time and he sighs, reaching for it, sending Blue the “Still all good,” text.

A little scratching noise draws his attention and he looks around. Huh, nothing out of pla-

Where’d that screwdriver come from?

What the _fuck_ is that thing coming out of the vent?

Oh, it grabbed the screwdriver. What.

Wait, it’s… it’s unscrewing the- huh. Well, that explains how Cyan was wandering around, anyway. White’s sketch did have tentacles, but none looked like creepy little hands. Eh, who's he to judge? That is an _Alien_ right there. Cool. Maaaybe he should text Blue about this. Actually yeah, he should, but he’s not going to. Maybe if he just keeps working, Cyan might try for the same opportunity he did with White? That’d be good.

Red doesn’t think he’s dangerous, per se. Oh sure, Impostors have killed people, but honestly, a lot of things can or have killed people. A sufficiently motivated duck could probably kill a man. Cyan doesn’t seem to want to be dangerous, so that puts him above almost every chihuahua that Red’s ever met.

Anyway, Cyan’s got one of six screws underway. It’ll be a bit before Red’s at all concerned for his safety. He turns back to wiring, though he glances towards the grating now and then. It takes a couple more updates to Blue before the last screw is coming out. Red leans into the wiring panel, setting up a small mirror he uses to check on wiring within the walls, and waits.

They slide out of the vent smoothly, then freeze. Red’s right… he’s right there.

Buried in a wiring panel. Alone.

The Impostor can hear him rummaging around in there. Busy, lost to the world? Well… that’s… hmm…

They shift their weight thoughtfully, looking at Red’s back, then down at themself, willing themself to that shade, uncurling tentacles and shifting their placement to cover the bits of helmet they actually wear, concealing the pale blue with that strong shade Red wears instead.

They focus on getting their look as accurate as possible to Red’s, glancing at him now and then for reference, tense to the idea that he might lean away from the panel, but he’s apparently absorbed in his work, reaching for electrical tape or wire caps without looking.

Satisfied, they move silently past the electrician, planning to head out the door and aim straight for the cafeteria and more food. If they’re caught, they can escape down one of the other vents they already opened, but if it works out, no one will be any wiser…

“Okay,” Red says, the Impostor jumps and spins. Red’s still kneeling at the wiring panel, but he’s looking over his shoulder at them. _Damnit._ “I have no idea how you do that, but it’s impressive.”

The Impostor doesn’t move. Red’s looking at what appears to be his perfect twin, and he _is_ impressed. He almost feels the need to check that he’s wearing the right helmet. He shifts and the Impostor twitches back towards the vent.

“Hey, no! Aw Cyan, I won’t move, promise!” He says, holding his hands up. Wait, PDA in hand. “Here. See, no one on call.”

The Impostor pauses as Red slides his PDA across the floor. Cyan - what a weird concept, it is Cyan, but he’s red, right now - picks it up and looks at it, then at Red.

Red grins, though he knows it can’t be seen through the visor. “Even footing now, right bud? Can we talk?”

“...” The Impostor’s weight shifts again, but they sigh, and Red sees his reflection fade away, Cyan’s suit fading through purple and then back to cyan. When he looks back up at the other’s helmet, it’s just Cyan again, not a copy of himself. “Why?”

“Cause I don’t like being used to hurt people,” Red answers. “And if there’s something I can do to stop it, all of it, then I want to do it. I signed up for this because I wanted to see the stars, explore the universe.”

Cyan looks around, stepping away from Red and peering around the lighting panel cautiously before turning back to Red. “I believe you.”

Red exhales in relief. “I know you don’t wanna, like, be around the group of us, and I can’t blame you, dude. But you can’t just… live in the vents forever. Besides, SEEEB needs evidence to act on. The guy they’re talking to right now is supposed to be a former MIRA astronaut who has dealt with Impostors before and smelled a rat with MIRA’s policies. Sounds like the perfect person for you to talk to.”

Cyan shakes his head. “I… I can’t. Comms is… there’s no vents, nowhere to escape to if the others aren’t… if they aren’t like you.”

“Ah, yeah,” Red nods his understanding. He doesn’t think Cyan would be harmed; Yellow’s been pretty strict with her orders, and even Pink’s quietly come around, though he won’t admit it. “Well uh… how about… a blood sample? Like they were saying. I could go get a clean needle from medbay, jab you, and uh… bring it to White to test?”

They blink at the crewman. _Yeah, how about no._ “Why should I let enemy aliens study my blood?”

“Ah… well, I mean, dude… Those babies of yours… so many were collected, pretty sure MIRA already knows what your genetics looks like,” Red sounds almost apologetic. The Impostor contemplates that grim rationale and finds it accurate.

“I suppose…” they say.

“I mean, I could probably bring White here too, you know?” Red offers. “She’d actually know how to do a clean jab.”

Don’t like that. They shake their head, stepping towards the vent.

“I can just wait by the door while she does it,” Red offers hopefully. “Y’know, moral support from afar. You could even wait in the vent.”

The Impostor shifts their weight at that, considering. Finally they sigh.

“Only White. She brings a needle still in its sterile packaging. I’ll meet you both in medbay.”

Red’s PDA hums, and the Impostor startles, almost dropping it. They look at it.

“Oh, uh, gotta send Blue a text,” Red says. “Can you just type in ‘still working on it all’ and send it to her? She wouldn’t let me come here solo without a check in system.”

The Imposter nods, doing as asked and sending it. They grip Red’s PDA. “I… I’ll keep this right now, okay?”

“Sure, no problem,” Red says, standing up and brushing his pants off. “Keep it if I’m lying to you.”

They stay in place as Red steps past them, all a-tremble of their own daring. The crewman hesitates a moment within arm’s reach, and then holds out a hand, lightly brushing their elbow as he passes by. They stare after him, astounded.

* * *

Red peeks his head into comms, seeing Yellow, White, Purple, Lime and Orange talking to some shade of blue on the comms. Hmm, Azure, maybe? Oh, Cerulean, says Yellow. He awkwardly knocks his knuckles on the doorframe, causing everyone to look around.

“Sorry guys, hate to interrupt. Can I borrow White a moment?”

He pulls off his left glove and holds out his hand. “Zapped myself good just now on some worn wires.”

Alibi given so the rest don’t feel the need to come along, and it proves he’s not the Impostor by showing his skin. Win-win.

“Oh sure,” White says cheerfully. “I’ve said my part.”

She nods to Cerulean on the screen and steps out after Red. “Is it bad enough to need medbay?” she asks, holding out her hand. Red coughs awkwardly and puts a hand on her elbow, bringing her a bit further down the hall. “Red?”

“Ahh, actually I’m fine, it’s just,” he glances over his shoulder. “Managed to have a chat with Cyan. He agreed to let you take a blood sample, but I didn’t wanna announce that in case it caused everyone to want to come investigate.”

“Oh!” White says, straightening and following after Red to Medbay. “That’s great! How did you manage it?”

“Heh, bullied Blue into letting me go down to electrical alone,” he explains as they walk, cutting through the cafeteria. “Caught Cyan opening the vent and managed to be non-threatening, I guess.”

“That’s… that’s really well done, Red,” She says, stepping into medbay.

“He said it has to be a new syringe, still in the sterile package,” Red adds, seeing White going for her sample kit.

“Of course,” she sniffs disparagingly. “I wouldn’t reuse a needle.”

There’s a clunk from the vent, and they both look over.

“Uh… Blue texted you asking if you were okay,” Cyan says from under the grating.

“Oh, shit, Should’ve thought about that,” says Red, sounding embarrassed. White smiles to herself. “Pass it up here, I’ll spin the same story I did to the comms crew.”

There’s a hesitation, but the PDA is pushed out of the vent. White watches, then walks to medbay doors, closing them securely, before returning to the vent.

“Hello, Cyan,” she says to him. “Or… should I call you something else, your real name?”

“I don’t think you could say my real name,” he tells her. “It’s-”

It’s said with both voice boxes, two alien words combined into one to her ears. He’s right, she can’t say that, she tries anyway. He makes a noise that might be chuckling.

“Cyan’s fine. I like it. It’s a pretty color and a pretty word.”

“Alright then,” she says, inspecting the screws keeping the vent in place. “Aah, Red, do you have a flathead screwdri-”

One is poked up through the vent slats.

“-oh, nevermind.”

She picks it up and starts opening the vent. Red’s talking to Blue on his PDA’s chat function.

“Yeah, sorry, forgot to tell you, it kinda hurt. Yeah it’s fine, White’s just giving me some burn ointment. I’ll be a bit.”

Once done, he comes to help, and between them, it only takes a couple minutes to get the vent open. Cyan doesn’t emerge, though, visibly hunching in on himself.

“Can I get your arm? Or… wherever you have a vein I can use?” White asks.

“I… can Red move away?”

“Yeah sure, where is the burn ointment, anyway? I probably will end up needing it before the day’s up with the state of wiring,” Red says. White chuckles, telling him to check a specific cabinet. When she turns around, Cyan’s sitting on the edge of the vent, legs still dangling within.

“Hello,” she says, coming to crouch beside him, unwrapping the needle. It finally occurs to her that Cyan wanted to see that it was a sterile needle, to know he wasn’t being tricked.

“Hi,” he says softly, and his visor unhinges, a single tentacle peeking out at her. He lifts his hand to it, and indicates it. White can see a large blood vessel just below the surface of the tentacle, and carefully uses the needle to pierce it. His blood is yellow.

She takes 10mL of alien blood, then pulls back. “Thank you.”

He nods, wrapping his arms around himself. White tilts her head thoughtfully.

“You know… you have your PDA, there’s something else you can do while staying here, if you want…”

* * *

//“-see what I can do about accessing MIRA documents. t’s a shame you can’t get him to cooperate, but I understand the problem,”// says Cerulean, the SEEEB representative assigned to their ship’s case. //“Perhaps I could record you a broadcast, it might-”//

“I’m back,” says White, stepping into the comms room. Her voice is… triumphant. Yellow turns to look at her in confusion. She’s carrying her PDA in one hand, and a sheet of paper in the other. “Red’s a smooth liar.”

“What,” Yellow asks, leaning around Orange to see the medic better. “What did he lie about?”

White looks at the commset. “Still with us, Cerulean?”

//“Yes, I am,”// he says, a curious smile just visible past his veil. //“You’ve been gone twenty minutes, what’s happened in that time?”//

The doctor lifts the sheet of paper with a flourish, and Yellow can see it’s some kind of gene sequencing, but she doesn’t know what it means.

“The Impostor, Cyan, has no trace of our DNA in his system,” White informs both Cerulean, and the crew in comms. “And he is a perfect genetic match, species-wise, to Polus Lifeform Type X223.”

“Oh!” say Cerulean, Yellow, and everyone else in the room.

“Busy twenty minutes,” says Purple. White nods, still radiating triumph.

“Red snuck down to check on electrical and I don’t know exactly what happened, but somehow he and Cyan got to talking and he convinced Cyan to let me come get a blood sample,” she says.

//“Oh, fantastic!”// says Cerulean. //“Send me that data immediately. That really gets the case rolling. I’ll have secure ship-to-SEEEB comms sent to your ship and a couple others so MIRA doesn’t know where the leak is exactly.”//

“One more thing,” White says, holding up her PDA and setting it by the comms unit’s speaker/receiver. Yellow leans over, sees that there’s a call in progress with-

//“Uhm... Hello,”// says Cyan’s voice nervously. Yellow can feel her jaw drop. White managed it! //“White said I should introduce myself by my real name, it’s-”//

The sound is incomprehensible.

//“-But you can call me Cyan,”// he says. //“I don’t think you could even pronounce some of my words that don’t use both sets of vocal chords. Your hearing range is too small.”//

//“... Well,”// says Cerulean. //“I feel like I’m a part of history right now. It’s good to meet you, Cyan, I’m Cerulean. A shade of blue, like yourself, though I understand if you don’t know the relevance to that.”//

//“Uhm… All I know is the books say your names match the shade of… of your eyes, and some people think your color determines compatibility in different things like work, friends, and romance?”//

//“Heh, something like that. There’s more, but you have the gist of it,”// Cerulean says. //“We should cut this comm call short, but I’d like to ask… what is the first contact your people had with ours that you know of?”//

//“Oh… it’s... I don’t know what the dates were in your time, but five years ago, more or less… a drilling rig broke into one of our nurseries. There were… uh… seven aliens- your people. The… sitters- uh…”//

There’s a pause, then Cyan speaks again. //“The crechemasters, that’s the right word. They’d felt and heard the vibrations and were trying to evacuate the hatchlings, but they came in to find this… thing have- had come through the wall. There were strange creatures in the nursery and they were picking up hatchlings. The crechemasters attacked to rescue the hatchlings and killed some of the aliens, who fought back. Two escaped, five were left behind, all on the floor, yours probably thought they were dead…”//

//“... What colors were they, do you know?”// asks Cerulean. Yellow stares at White’s PDA, the recounting of first contact sickening to think of, then to realize that those alien attackers were other researchers…

//“Uhm… the five left behind. A strong shade of red, a shade of green… very pale, not like lime, maybe a tiny bit bluer? A browny-orange shade, dark purple-pink, and… Sort-of-white, like… I could show you but I don’t know how to describe.”//

He seems to be struggling for words, and Yellow can’t blame him.

“... the _Valiant_ expedition. One fo the first Polus exploration crews. A team of seven tunneled down into a large cavern their seismic sensors detected and discovered strange life forms,” says Orange quietly. “Two came back up, with injuries and stories of being attacked by animals in the dark. Scratch marks, a wound that looked like they’d been speared, the other five were presumed dead down there. Scarlet, Mint, Umber, Plum, and Snowy.”

//“Oh,”// says Cyan. //“Uhm… Snowy… that’s a white?”//

//“Yeah,”// comes Red’s voice, a bit more distant on the comm. //“Scarlet is a shade of red, mint will be the pale green, umber is the brownish, and plum the purple shade.”//

//“Okay,”// says Cyan softly. //“Snowy and Plum and Scarlet were dead. Not the other two. The living two and the dead were brought in. The living were questioned until our soldiers could understand your language. I was taught that some of ours tried approaching the next group of yours with friendly words, hoping it was a misunderstanding, but they were attacked and killed.”//

//“Hmm…”// says Cerulean. Yellow desperately wants to ask what happened to Mint and Umber. Then Cerulean asks it for her. //“What happened to the survivors?”//

//“I think they’re still alive,”// Cyan answers. Yellow glances at the others, who are all clearly processing this. //“Maybe others too? If we succeed in clearing a crew of Invaders and there’s a survivor we can control, we’re supposed to bring them back. We need… _reference_ to mimic you right.”//

“Oh,” says Purple, soft, and regretful. “That makes… a lot of sense, unfortunately.”

“That’s… gods,” Orange murmurs. “I hope they’re treated okay…”

//”I think they are?”// says Cyan. //”I mean, before we’re sent out they actually send some us- uh, _some of us_ soldiers to meet the prisoners and see if they mistake us for your kind. My friend said they have rooms with light and food and water and are together.//

Yellow clears her throat and shakes her head, willing away tears. That’s awful. They’re being treated as prisoners of war, half-decently, yes, but that’s just awful. But the motivations on the Impostors’ part are too understandable. “I can’t believe that MIRA corporation is doing this.”

//“Tch, Polus’s natural resources are great,”// Cerulean says. //“And right before that first contact, the government agreed with the assessment that there was no native sapient or near-sapient life that’d be affected by mining and resource harvesting on Polus. Realizing they had a native people on hand was very inconvenient for MIRA, no doubt. They’d have to stop resource collecting and admit their process of checking for sapients is deeply flawed, which would mean stopping all resource harvesting everywhere.//

There’s a noise from White’s PDA that sounds like an angry hiss.

//”Indeed,”// says Cerulean. //”Cyan, thank you for cooperating. This is huge. I need evidence that MIRA is doing this deliberately before I can completely slam dunk this case, but what I have right now is enough to get half of MIRA executives’ heads metaphorically ripped off. But I want enough that there’s no way they can weasel their way out. Yellow, your crew is officially under gag orders from the Space Exploration Ethics Enforcement Bureau: You are NOT to share any information relating to Impostors, Polus Lifeform Type X223 with MIRA corp, but you are also not to deviate from your normal course. Keep things as normal as possible for MIRA monitoring. If you can get into contact with other crews and quietly speak to them about this situation, good.”//

“I understand,” says Yellow.

//”Cyan, I know I have no authority over you, but I’m asking you to interact peacefully with the crew around you. You’re officially under the Bureau’s protection,”// Cerulean says. //”But if you cause harm to our people, they have a right to defend themselves.”//

//“I understand,”// says Cyan timidly. //”But what if I’m attacked first?”//

//”Then you’re within rights to defend yourself,”// Cerulean answers. //”If possible, if you encounter other Impostors, I beg that you ask them to stand down, especially if their crews are amiable to the revelations you’ve caused. I’m certainly not asking them to sacrifice their safety, however. If they must continue to blend in amongst crews, I understand, but please discourage predatory behaviour.”//

//”I… I can do that, yeah,”// says Cyan.

//”Good! This call has gone on long enough, we don’t want MIRA catching on to it. Goodbye all, once you get the new comms unit, we’ll speak more.//


	4. In Good Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, I LOVE all the comments I’ve been getting. Some people are very on the nose about a few of my personal headcanons. I LOVE it. One think I think a lot of people missed, was the implication of one of the things that’s being provided to the Humanae prisoners: Light. Why would that need providing, instead of just being there, I wonder…
> 
> Anyway, it's been said in comments before this, but officially: I mentioned the Crew’s species being human-but-to-the-left, so officially I’m calling their species “humana” as a singular member and “Humanae” as a group. Humanity can still be used to refer to the lot of them.
> 
> Yes Cyan’s pronouns during his POV switch from “They” to “He” in this chapter. Mimic psychology thing that I have in my head that I’m having trouble putting to words. Basically, when The Impostor is being Cyan, they apply the pronouns to themself that the crew expects them to have. If Cyan had been introduced as “She” or “They” the crew would be using those and Cyan would apply said pronouns the same way. Impostors are a monogendered species, but those infiltrating have a rudimentary understanding of their Invaders’ gender concepts, it’s a bit essential for fitting in. Cyan’s natural voice reads as ‘male’ to the Invaders, so it was easiest to come in as a male astronaut.

“Okay, so, all the vents are open,” says Pink, kicking at one moodily. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Well, if we want Cyan to act in good faith, we should too,” says Yellow, as if she doesn’t have reservations of her own. “It doesn’t seem fair to just let him stay in the vents like that. Besides, he snuck out last night disguised as me because he needed to get to the washrooms. I’d prefer he had access to the facilities over… well, the alternative. Especially since he’s basically living in the vents.”

“Ugh,” Pink sighs. “I hate this. I haven’t seen him since this all started. Have you?”

“Once, he darted back down the vents right away,” Yellow says. “He’s terrified of us. I just… if this peace thing is going to work out, we need to prove we’re willing to trust him and give him the space to prove himself trustworthy - as well as the space he needs to see that we can be trustworthy.”

Pink sighs again, crossing his arms. “I’m not hugging him to prove my niceness.”

Yellow smiles. “That won’t be necessary, I assure you.”

* * *

_He’s_ perched above the lights console, peeking down as Red and Green do some much-needed maintenance in Electrical. They’re unaware of him for the moment, but the Impostor just wants to test the waters.

Officially back on the crew roster as Cyan, _he_ is. Bedroom’s resealed and only he can access it. Sometimes he lurks in it, happy to have the space. He still won’t spend much time around the crew, nervous of betrayal. He leans over, peering down at them.

“Need any help?”

“Shit!” Red startles, flinging his pliers to the side. Green hits his head on the panel he was working under.

“Oh,” Cyan blinks, not having expected that kind of reaction. “Sorry.”

“Wha- oh, no, sorry, I was just really concentrating,” says Red, looking around to try and find him. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Ffff, damn you’re quiet,” Green puts a hand over his chest.

“Well, you know,” Cyan shuffles, embarrassed. Red follows his voice, spotting him, and makes a ‘huh’ noise. “Sorry.”

“S’fine. And uhh… I dunno if you can help much… y’know,” Red looks up at him. “Since you’re not uh - a tech now.”

“I can hand you the right tapes and wires?” Cyan offers. Yeaah, he’s lost his ‘technician’ status until further notice. Bit of a side effect of technically being a hostile alien. Suggested by that Ethics guy, Cerulean. Seems nice enough, but there’s something…

It’s odd that Cerulean didn’t think to ask how Impostors are getting into MIRA ships and stations with full personnel files and backgrounds. Cyan’s relieved that he doesn’t have to dance around that subject, maybe imply he killed a person and took their place, because it’s not true, but telling the Invaders how they do it is definitely something that cannot happen. So it was kind of Cerulean to _forget_ to ask.

Maybe… Well, it can’t be what Cyan’s thinking, but wouldn’t it be _absolutely hilarious_ if -

Nah, it’s impossible. How would one of his kind pass like that for so-

Anyway. Cyan hesitates, but hops down off the high shelf, landing smoothly right beside the vent. Both Red and Green look at him, but neither moves as if to try and corner him. Slowly, he relaxes as they stay in their positions.

“If you don’t mind playing the gopher, we’re actually short on heat shrink tubing,” says Green cautiously. Cyan nods at that, kicking open the vent.

“Sure! I’ll be right back!”

They watch the Imposter disappear down the vent, then Green shakes his head. “How does he fit down there?”

“Not a clue, though he’s got some creepy little hand tentacles somewhere,” Red answers. “I figure those are what he actually uses to move around down there. Arms and legs would get stuck.”

“Huh, how do you know that?”

“Cause when I was in here the other day, I watched him stick one through the vent to unscrew it,” Red answers. “Y’know, before I convinced him to let White take a blood sample.”

“Aaah, that explains how he was getting out,” Green says. “Now if we can just figure out how he changes suit color.”

“Fuck man, I saw him do it and I can’t figure it out,” Red answers. “But he completely changed colors and some shape to look like me, then went back to being Cyan when I caught him. White asked and apparently the answer is ‘I’m a mimic’.”

“Guess that’s Impostor speak for ‘fuck you, I do what I want,’ hmm?’

Red laughs, shrugging. “I mean, they’re pretty technologically advanced, yeah? He’s got no trouble understanding stuff around the ship, and he can blend in with a bunch of our scientists and engineers, so he’s sharp and technical. Maybe it’s some kind of chameleon suit. That’d be cool.”

“Hmm, if they're so advanced, why can’t Cyan contact his Command?” Green counters. “Why don’t they attack us with their own ships?”

“Well, I mean, sure, they might be a pre-spaceflight society, but that doesn’t mean they’re cave people,” Red says.

“Yeah, true,” Green hums thoughtfully. “We’ll have to see if we can get it out of him at some point.”

“Hmmm,” Red snips off a frayed wire and inspects the whole thing. “Oof, this relay needs to be fully replaced. Can you pass me the yellow roll of high current?”

“Here,” the spool of wire is rolled to him, and Red snatches it up.

“Thanks.” He gets to work on replacing that wire. “Hnn, when do you think Cyan will get back?”

“Whenever he feels like it,” Green replies. “Or whenever he’s done waiting for everyone to be out of storage, I guess.”

“Ahh, yeah. Nice that he came in while we’re both here. Progress!” Red says cheerfully.

“Yeah, well,” Green grunts. “I guess.”

“You gue-”

He’s interrupted by the vent opening, and Cyan pops out with a pack of the wire covers they need.

“Here you go,” he says, tossing it in Red’s direction.

“Perfect timing!” says Green. “Hand me a blue one and a yellow one, would’ja?”

Red pulls out Green’s requested pieces and reaches over to pass them to him, then pulls out the ones he needs. “Thanks, Cyan.”

The Impostor nods, leaning elbows on the floor, the rest of him still in the vent. He remains there for a while, watching them work, but eventually it becomes clear they don’t need anything else, and he ducks back down, the vent closing behind him.

* * *

Feels like a holding pattern.

The crew are nice to _him_ , when they talk to him, but then, He really only talks to White, Red, and sometimes Yellow. They thought Blue might be okay, but, well…

_“Cyan… tell me the truth. Poppet. Did you… did you kill my Canid?”_

His cringe had been answer enough, and Blue had cursed him out with enough vitriol that Cyan’s now avoiding any space that has a chance of containing Blue. He’d ducked back down the vent he was half out of and stayed hidden there for the rest of the day. And he’d thought Pink was scary.

Speaking of Pink, Cyan’s adroitly avoiding him too. It just seems better this way.

He’s supposedly welcome to join the crew during activities, has been invited a few times. He’s just so scared…

Even with what that Cerulean guy said, he can’t know for sure what the crew’s intentions are without putting himself at their mercy. It goes against his every instinct, all his training…

It’s terrifying, being alone. He misses his friends.

Hungry again… It’s been a couple days since he had that roast. He could come out of a vent in Cafeteria and get something. Grab some meat, descend back to safety to enjoy it. It’s a bit after lunch time, it should work. Yeah, sounds like a plan.

Cyan pokes out of a vent in the farthest corner of the cafeteria, only to discover that his two least favorites on the crew are in here, among others.

Hurriedly, he pops back down the vent before Pink or Blue notices him. Well, food can wait.

He sits in the vent, looking up through the grating at the cafeteria ceiling, letting out a sigh. He’d rather walk around freely, but the idea of being outnumbered by these people is terrifying. The Invaders are apex predators, social pursuit and endurance hunters by nature. Despite how fearsome he can make himself appear, Cyan’s an ambush predator with powerful attacks, but little defenses. Mimicry and camouflage skills are what keeps his species secure, not their strength. Impostors might be highly social and naturally inclined to live in communities, but they hunt alone or small groups.

The Impostors’ present population doesn’t lend itself to all-out war, either. They number in the tens of thousands, not the billions like the Invaders. Cyan is certainly not about to inform the crew of that, though. Not yet, probably not ever.

It’d be nice to have something to do, at least…

 _VrrrVrrr!_ His PDA vibrates with a new message.

He looks down and pulls the PDA out from where he has it tucked up in his ‘air tank’ formed from dorsal tentacles to see who messaged him.

_From: Purple_

_Saw you in Cafeteria, but you immediately left. Did you want something?_

Oh, that’s nice of him. Cyan lets out a huff of air, considering, then replies.

_Yes please, I was hoping to find something to eat, but it was busy._

He shifts around, lifting the vent cover just enough to peek through. Purple is standing just outside one of the private booths where two people can sit and talk while eating, but still keep their faces concealed from one another. Cyan can see Orange’s legs still in the booth. Purple is focused on his PDA, typing away.

_VrrVrr!_

Cyan looks at his PDA.

_From: Purple_

_How much do you eat? Do you only eat meat? White figures you’re primarily a meat-eater._

He drops back down the vent and types his response.

_Ideally, an average of four or five pounds of meat a day, but I can eat six times that and not have to eat for a while too. Tell White that she’s right, I can only digest meat._

He hits send, wondering if Purple is really going to bring food to his vent for him. That’s very nice! Could be a trap, but… probably not.

It _could_ be a trap…

Paranoid brain, you can go away. Purple’s been calm and kind this whole time to them. The Impostor huffs, sliding a bit further into the vent, unsurprised when his PDA vibrates again.

_From: Purple_

_Do you prefer it cooked or raw? There’s a couple chops and a pack of stew meat. That’s about three pounds, but we should tell Yellow to add more meats to the requisition lists for you._

Okay, he’d be happy with a raw lump of meat handed to him at this point, but Purple’s really going all-out. This is great. Before he can type a response, his PDA buzzes again.

_From: Purple_

_Also, do you need cutlery?_

He considers the questions, then types away. Really, he needs bones and internal organs to eat if he can’t get the usual vitamins he could have at home, but he doesn’t feel like explaining it.

_Cooked is tastier but I don’t have a problem digesting it raw. That sounds good, it’ll be more than I’ve been having. I don’t need cutlery but I’d prefer it, thank you._

He gets a ‘thumbs up’ emoji in return, and then:

_From: Purple_

_Meet you in medbay?_

Cyan hums at that, then returns with a thumbs-up emoji of his own, and heads for the medbay. Peeking out of the vent, he sees White working away at the sample’s computer, and shrinks down a little into the vent, not wanting to scare her. The Doors are open, though, so…

Purple walks in, carrying a plate. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, hey Purple,” White looks up. “Fine, just doing the last of these protein assays. Ah… hungry?”

“No, I’m done,” Purple says. “This is for Cyan; surprised he hasn’t made it here yet. He said to tell you that you’re right about him being an obligate carnivore.”

“Oh! I see,” White answers, sounding very pleased. “I do like it when I’m right about something.”

Cyan snickers at that, popping out of the vent. Both White and Purple look at the Impostor, and he momentarily quails. But… White is safe, White is okay. He trusts her. If someone else tried to come after him, she’d help him get away. He hesitates a moment longer before climbing out of the vent, ready to flee back down it as Purple walks over, offering the plate.

“Uhm, thank you,” he says, accepting the plate, ready to flee if Purple reaches for him. _He’s so big!_ Purple nods, stepping away and the Impostor relaxes. He hesitates, wanting to go back to the vents for safety, but he’s also… lonely. White is nice, he likes her. Purple seems okay too, taking a seat at one of the workstations to help White with her analysis. After dithering, the Impostor takes a cautious step away from the vent and sits on the floor, leaned up against one of the medical bunks. This’ll do.

He uses the knife and fork provided to cut the meat into smaller bites. Then he lifts a piece with the fork, looking at it. Seems like Purple had it seared a little. Neat. They push a tentacle past their visor to snag the morsel, but pause, realizing that both crew can see them, and are in fact looking.

“Oh, uh…” they lower their hand, feeding tentacle tucking back up under their visor.

“Don’t mind me,” says White. “I’m being nosy.”

Ah, yeah. Xenobiologist and all that. He's a sapient alien, so probably the most exciting thing she’s ever met, career-wise. He huffs, but examines his forkful of meat, this time pushing his visor open and bringing the meat up under it to pull off the fork and chew on. White makes a little noise and turns back to her samples. He glances over and isn’t surprised to see she’s running science stuff on the blood he let her take. She always wants to know everything. It’s a good trait.

Speaking of the quest for knowledge… Purple is still watching. Cyan pauses on his third forkful, turning his head to stare at him.

“Is it rude to watch you eat?” Purple asks. Cyan huffs, but shakes his head.

“No… I just thought… a lot of your people’s horror stories involve creatures with ‘too many teeth’ and lots of tentacles,” Cyan remarks to cover his discomfort. “Aren’t you bothered?”

“You’re something completely different from us, but it’d be ridiculous to apply horror tropes to an actual person,” Purple responds levelly. “And if what we don’t understand is frightening, then we should endeavour to understand it, not continue to fear it. I’d say letting fear win is probably at least partially responsible for this mess MIRA’s making of your homeworld.”

_… huh._

The Impostor looks down at his plate, contemplating Purple’s words, the man’s ‘danger rating’ dropping in his mental tallies, just a little. He absently pokes a bit of meat with his fork, and then brings it up under his visor to eat. As he eats, he listens to White and Purple speaking in comfortable tones, discussing the results of the protein assay.

He could almost fall asleep in here… if he felt a little safer being vulnerable… he does like having people nearby...

White’s focused on writing out her hypothesis in a way that makes more sense than her simple tests on the blood Cyan let her take. No, he’s not an allergen to anyone on crew, no there’s nothing toxic obvious in his blood. Yes, it’s a good note to have in a scientific paper, but when there’s an honest-to-god sapient alien _right_ here, she feels like she could be learning so much more.

She glances over at him, seeing that he’s still picking away at his plate, little forkfuls of near-raw meat disappearing up under his visor. She turns back to her console, glancing once at what Purple’s writing down in his own notes. He’s been looking at some protozoans they found on a large asteroid that they were fortunate enough to capture and bring aboard this ship. Simple life without atmosphere! Extremely exciting too.

She can hear someone running down the hall outside, but it’s not uncommon for someone to try and save time by charging about, so she ignores it. Then Lime bursts into medbay.

“Hey guys! Guess what!?”

There’s a thump and clatter and everyone looks around to see the vent cover rattling, Cyan long gone. Lime deflates as White turns back to her, then she picks up the threads.

“Oh, sorry, uhh, I was just gonna say that the supply hypershuttle just got here and there’s a huge stash of candies and specialty ingredients!”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” says Purple. “I wonder if it’s from MIRA or if Yellow managed to arrange some treats with the supply.”

“Dunno,” Lime answers happily, though she leans over to look at the vent. “Damn, sorry for scaring you Cyan, if you’re still there.”

The vent lifts slightly, and Cyan peeks out, but only long enough to grab at his plate of meats, and then he’s gone again. White sighs.

Scary. Yep. They’re so _loud,_ even when there’s no reason to be! Lime apologized, but now he’s feeling spooked. He’d been comfortable, content, on the verge of deciding things were fine, but that was a reminder of how quickly things can change. Humanae are so fast on their feet! They can keep up their pace for so long too. The Invaders and their abilities are horrifically reminiscent of his species’ top predator, one of its names means ‘you’ll die tired,’ though said creature is nearing extinction now.

Not extinct enough, if you ask Cyan, who’d been lucky enough to escape a pair of the things in his younger years. The four-legged pursuit predators were cunning and terrifying, and they were hard to fool, even with Cyan’s talents at hiding. He’d flattened himself to rocks and changed color and texture to match, darting away whenever they were just a little further away. Luck though, had been what saved him; a sheer boulder that he could climb high enough to be out of their reach, and stay curled up there until they’d given up and moved on, seeking easier prey.

He sometimes feels like he’s living it again. Darting from rocky outcrop to rocky outcrop. Curling up and blending in the best he can for a few precious moments, hoping to lose his pursuers, because the alternative is dying tired and helpless to do anything but watch the predator approach.

He lets out a sigh and shovels the remainder of his food into his mouth. He pushes the plate out of the vent and then drags himself deeper into the system, looking for a tight, cramped, and _secure,_ spot to think.

* * *

* * *

“I bet you’d like chicken. For some reason we never get it in the supplies, though,” Black is saying when Yellow walks into the ship’s administration after breakfast. Black is… they’re laying down on the floor talking into the vent. Going to be one of those days, apparently. She was sipping her coffee through a straw, but now she lifts her helmet to chug the whole mug in one go, before setting her helmet back into place. Black is still talking to the vent. “Do you have birds on Polus? We never hear anything about flying creatures.”

Pause. Yellow waits, sort of expecting to hear Cyan reply from the vent. When no answer is forthcoming, she exhales and goes to check on everyone’s locations, swiping her clearance card, (How is this supposed to prevent Impostor attacks again? She’s pretty sure Cyan knows how to slide a card through a reader.) and then arguing with that stupid, finicky reader.

Black’s still talking to the vent, so Yellow smacks the card reader and tries again. It works perfectly this time. Overdesigned piece of junk. Hopefully, the systems won’t decide to lock down randomly for ‘security’ again for at least the morning.

_Would it be bad to ask the Impostor if he could sabotage the card reader? Hmm…_

“Morning, Cap’,” says Black, pushing up onto their knees. “What’s up?”

“Oh, the card reader as usual,” she grumbles. “Cyan down there, I assume?”

“Uh… he was in here when I walked in and vanished down the vent. I was trying to talk to him, but I guess he kept going once he was in the vent.”

“Par for the course,” Yellow sighs. “It’s funny, it never really would have occurred to me that Impostors are terrified of us, but it makes sense when you spend a few seconds thinking about it.”

“Mm, did White tell you her theory that they’re prey creatures?”

“That’s a lot of teeth and a big taste for meat for a prey animal,” Yellow comments, looking at her PDA. Purple sent her a message yesterday that they should request a bit more meats, since Cyan apparently can’t digest anything else. Someone’s actually succeeding at talking to him, good for them. He answers her direct messages, at least.

“Well… he doesn’t exactly act like an apex predator, does he?” Black points out. “An apex predator should be cool and confident surrounded by creatures it sees as prey, not hiding away.”

“A lone wolf will hide from the farmer, though a pack of them could tear the poor homesteader apart,” Yellow replies. “Despite the way people tend to think of other creatures, predators tend to be more timid than prey. A herbivore usually has all it’s food requirements met by default, plus every hunting occurrence is life or death, so they’ll fight with all they have, compared to a predator, who needs to stay fit and able to kill to survive, and said ability to kill is what means they’ll eat or not. Injury costs more to the meat eater.”

“I mean, just because he’s a meat-eater doesn’t mean there isn’t a scarier meat-eater out there that could eat him too,” Black responds. “White figures it because of that mimicry thing. They’re so good at hiding, it’s because there’s something to hide from that they really don’t want finding them.”

“Hm, maybe,” Yellow says, checking on everyone’s locations on the Admin table. Cyan pops up in Navigation where there’s nobody else around and heads for O2, then turns around when he realizes Blue is in there. Night shift hasn’t turned in for the day yet, and are sitting in cafeteria, probably having their ‘dinners’. Orange, Red and White are sorting crates of supplies in Storage that came in on the last delivery shuttle, and the rest are scattered throughout the ship, doing general maintenance.

Yellow checks her PDA and then heads for Navigation. Her job is to make sure their planned course is still the best route available. A daily chore, but it’s one she cannot ignore as Captain. She considers Black’s comments about Cyan as she walks, and decides to reserve judgement on the matter. Is it relevant whether or not he’s an Apex predator? Perhaps, perhaps not. He is a sapient person, not an animal ruled by instinct.

She pauses in the hall by the shields, realizing that she didn’t think to ask Black to come along with her. Damnit, she made the mandatory pairs rule and she can’t even follow it!

Sigh… well. Not like everyone’s been following the rule. Pink’s the only other person really enforcing it. Heck, not following it is why Red had any luck at all, and he argued with her yesterday afternoon that staying in groups, alongside having a large night shiftpresently means that important general maintenance isn’t getting done. He’s right, but it feels mad not to take strong precautions considering there’s a hostile alien aboard her ship.

_Just because he’s a [predator] doesn’t mean there isn’t a scarier [predator] out there… A lone wolf might avoid the farmer, even though a pack of them could tear him apart._

Maybe she should consider who Cyan would think of as the Farmer in that analogy…

He hears the approaching footsteps from Shields and dithers a long moment. He could take off down the hall, but he just saw Blue in O2… vent is better. He darts back into Navigation and down the vent, letting it shut behind him. It doesn’t take too long for the footsteps to get closer. There’s a second set-

“Oh, hey Captain,” Blue’s voice. The Impostor shifts his jaws, a tongue flicking nervously around one of his feeding tentacles. Definitely made the right choice to hide. “Sorry, I- Oh uh… traveling solo too?”

Oh yes, there was a rule about them having to travel in pairs or more. Cyan clicks softly to himself, hearing Yellow sigh.

“I feel like it should be the rule, but I guess even I don’t actually feel threatened enough to remember to follow it.”

Well, that’s just insulting. Cyan’s perfectly capable of killing them if he decided to. He’s an excellent hunter and infiltrator. Just because he hasn’t killed any Humanae...

“Mmm, well, if he wanted to kill us, he’s had plenty of opportunity. White and Red are still alive and well, he and I were talking through a vent a couple days ago. He could’ve karked me, but didn’t. I’m pretty sure he’ll stick to the truce terms Cerulean outlined,” Blue answers, sounding grumpy. “But he’s not coming out of the vents for you or me anytime soon.”

Nope, Cyan sure isn’t. He can hear Yellow’s sigh.

“I’ll think about changing the crew schedule. Red argued that all of my safety procedures are slowing down work that needs doing, especially since we’re down a set of hands now.”

“Mmm,” Blue grunts. Cyan cautiously peers out of the vent to find they’re still in the hall, so he can’t see them. “Yeah, the O2 filters are in abysmal shape already. We need to keep on top of maintenance, especially if we can’t stop at as many waystations due to our… lil secret.”

Yellow sighs again. “You’re right. I won’t keep you. You’re heading for Shields now, right?”

“Actually I was gonna go up to Weapons,” Blue admits, “but I heard footsteps and came to take a look. Just in case.”

“Ah… yes.” Yellow sounds thoughtful.

“I hate to be the paranoid sort, boss, but ah-”

“Uhm? Oh.” There’s the sound of rustling fabric as if someone’s fumbling with their environment suit. Yellow lets out yet another sigh, the tone subtly different this time. No interference from a helmet speaker. Tch, they’re doing that to check now? Damnit. Cyan doesn’t know what their faces look like! He probably can’t copy a helmet removal anyway! “Happy?”

“Yeah, sorry,” says Blue, her own voice unfiltered. There’s a small mechanical hiss, and her voice comes through a vocoder again.

“Well, he did prove he can disguise as me,” Yellow says. “I need to work on the helm and monitor our course for a while. See you at lunch?”

“Yeah, no problem, see you.”

Cyan listens to one set of footsteps, ostensibly Blue, departing. He retreats down the vent as Yellow enters Admin, but she doesn’t even notice the vent cover dropping, staring out the window for several long seconds before seating herself at the helm. Cyan watches and can’t help but think she’s distracted. She’s not even looking at the readouts, just looking at her PDA.

After what seems like a very long time, she starts typing on her device, and the one Cyan has curled protectively in his dorsal tentacles vibrates silently with an incoming message. He retrieves it to see what was sent.

_From: Yellow_

_Can we talk in person? I’m alone in Navigation._

He lifts his head and peeks out through the vent.

She sends the message, then turns her attention to the helm. It seems like a long shot, but maybe…

The door behind her groans and hisses as it shuts. She spins in her seat to look at it. Did it glitch? Was there a sudden depressurisation somewhere in the ship!? No… an alarm would be going off. So…

Just as she’s reaching the conclusion of who shut the door, she catches movement out of the corner of her eye. She turns to find Cyan standing beside the vent, his PDA in hand. Well, she supposes, she can’t be surprised; she had observed him in the area before coming down this way. She takes in a deep breath, and stays seated. _Time to put that communications degree to use, huh._

“That was a lot quicker than I thought.”

“I was already here,” Cyan says, voice soft. “The- the door’s not locked, I just closed it.”

Yellow nods slowly. Firstly, how can he control the doors remotely? That’d be nice to know. Secondly, his statement makes her realize she did not hear the clunk of the door’s locking mechanism engage. That reassures her somewhat, knowing there’s an escape route. Just like how Cyan’s standing beside the vent.

Even footing.

“Sure, makes sense for a private chat,” she says, leaning forward on her knees. “Honestly, I was planning to use my time checking and correcting heading to think up what I want to say.”

“I can… wait,” Cyan says, his voice still incredibly soft. Yellow wonders for the first time if that’s his natural volume. If so, how loud they all must seem to him. “It’s not like I have any tasks to do.”

“Heh, yeah, well…” Yellow shakes her head. “Considering your talents with the doors, you could certainly do a lot of good on Maintenance, but uh…”

She trails off, embarrassed by the maybe-rude comment. Cyan makes a noise that might be snickering as Yellow turns to the helm and fixates on their route to hide her embarrassment.

He waits. Even as she purposely takes too long in her calculations to give herself more time to think, he stands silently. She enters the new numbers and glances at him to find he doesn’t appear to have twitched since she turned her back on him. That’s… a little creepy. But hey, he’s staying six feet away, so whatever.

She switches from the routing computer to the autopilot, ensuring it’s adjusting to the new instructions appropriately, then swings her chair around to look at the Impostor, taking a deep breath. Well, he’s had plenty of time to kill her and he hasn’t moved.

“I know you’re not… comfortable being around us,” she opens. “But living in the vents can’t be great.”

He turns his head slightly away from her, maybe looking out the window. “It’s secure.”

“What do you want from us?” Yellow says, then holds up her hand when Cyan inhales as if to really go off. “I don’t mean the big things, like Humanity leaving Polus, returning what children of yours we have… I know you want that. I want that for your people. We’re not… I refuse to be party to genocide. I mean on the small scale, here on this ship. What can I do, as Captain to make you feel like part of the team? What can we as a crew do to prove that you’re safe with us?”

He lets all his breath out, looking at her. He doesn’t say anything.

Is he confused? Is he just considering his answer and studying her? Yellow can’t help but fidget after an entire minute of the Impostor staring at her. Truly, he doesn’t even twitch, she can’t see his shoulders moving to indicate that he’s _breathing._

“Why?” he says finally, his volume matching hers. He takes a step sideways towards the other seat and puts a hand on it. Yellow wonders if he’s about to sit, but he stands there, thumb brushing over the headrest. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because,” She leans forward, gripping at her own knee, trying to keep her tone even. “I learned three days ago that I’m being lied to by people I should trust. They want to use me as an accessory to their war crimes, and don’t care if I’m killed by justifiably angry natives. They are lying to us, they don’t care if we die as long as their precious company comes out looking squeaky clean. Isn’t it a shame space travel can be so _DANGEROUS?”_

She only realizes she shouted that last word when Cyan cringes away from her. She takes several deep breaths, having to fiddle with her oxygen regulator so her oxygen tank gives her a little more for a couple minutes to clear her head more quickly.

“I’m responsible for the safety of every person on this ship,” she says, as calm as she can manage. “For their health, and well-being. The choices I make are supposed to be what causes the mission to succeed. The mission changed the instant we learned that we were being tasked with genocide. We are not doing that. My personal inclination would be to turn this whole ship around, march into MIRA Headquarters and throttle a few people, but-”

“I mean I can help with that, my tentacles are good for it,” Cyan says, a note of humor in his voice. Yellow snickers despite herself. Then she wonders if he knows it from experience and sobers.

“It wouldn’t do any good; just get me arrested for assault and you… well,” she gestures at the window. Cyan seems to wilt slightly, and she sighs. “SEEEB needs evidence that MIRA knows what they’re doing to your people. When we get to a station, or rendezvous with another ship, if we can get other people helping, we might be able to get the proof we need. Your people are obviously skilled - if you have any hackers, ask them to look at MIRA’s records, maybe internal communications between executives. There have to be some astronauts who know what’s really going on and are apathetic, in favor of it, or too cowardly to speak up.”

Cyan visibly considers her, then looks out the window for a moment, then back at her. “Can this SEEEB actually stop MIRA?”

Yellow thinks about it. SEEEB is a corporate watchdog. They’ve issued fines that have been paid, but they’ve never had a huge case against any space exploration agency. This will be the first. She opens her mouth, prepared to assure Cyan that yes, of course, but…

“I don’t know. There’s never been a case like this. That’s why they need as much evidence as possible to bolster outrage, make it so big that people can’t not hear about it. That’d guarantee that MIRA would have to back down. We want it exposed that MIRA KNOWS, one hundred percent. SEEEB doesn’t want to let them wiggle out of it at all, they want to crash MIRA.”

The Impostor sits down on the other chair, letting out a long huff. “So… no?”

“Theoretically they can absolutely wreck MIRA,” Yellow answers. “It’s just that said authority has never actually been tested, and corporations will try a lot to hide their misdeeds. That’s why we want this to get big.”

“They hide by telling you to kill your own on suspicion of being my kind, because they don’t want you to even maybe figure it out,” Cyan says, his voice flat. “I can’t imagine wasting people like that.”

“Your people must value each other’s lives more than some of our corporate interests do,” Yellow sighs. Cyan looks away.

“We have to,” he says after a long silence, then stands up. Yellow stands up too, slowly.

“Wait, you never answered my question.”

He pauses, looking at her. “There isn’t anything you can do except leave me be. I’ll stay out of the way and be helpful when I can, but I can’t… I can’t be around a group of you. I just… I can’t.”

“Why not?” Yellow challenges softly. Cyan hesitates, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Because you know what I am, and you could physically tear me apart if you decided to. We’re not strong.”

They could… what? Yellow’s so shocked by that answer that she can’t speak for a long moment, but she manages to force herself to speak before Cyan heads for the vent again.

“Cyan, please. We want to help, I know that there’s some tension. You’re the unknown, and scary to us, as much as we are to you-”

“No I’m not,” he says, and he sounds almost annoyed. “We’re scary when you don’t know which of your friends is the Alien, but you all know. You know how to deal with me. I messed up how I’m supposed to deal with you because I made the mistake of empa-empati- feeling for the people I’m supposed to…”

“Kill,” Yellow finishes. “And the word is empathizing, I think.”

He makes a noise that Yellow registers as a low growl. She pushes on because she has to.

“I know it’s not going to be perfect. I know some crew members have problems with you. But they’re good people, they - we ALL see the big picture. We understand what’s at stake. I’m not saying we’ll be the best group of friends, but you’re stuck on the ship with us. Wouldn’t it be better to be able to move around comfortably? To go for food whenever you want instead of hoping someone will bring it to you?”

He stands over the vent, kicking it open, but doesn’t hop in. It strikes inspiration for the Captain.

“Listen, come into the Cafeteria at lunch time. Through a vent, that’s fine. We leave them all open for you, like we’ve already planned. Talk to us. Like I said, It won’t be perfect, maybe there’s people who will keep having problems with you, I mean-”

“Blue, Pink,” he says in that quiet voice, tone anything but Mild.

“Sure, but you sure have a big problem with our kind, and you still tried for peace,” she retorts. “If you can do it, we sure as hell can too.”

He looks at her funny, perfectly still yet again. For the first time, Yellow really recognizes what it is. He’s an Ambush predator, not an active hunter. Maybe sometimes he stalks, but stillness in preparation for sudden movement is his speciality. He’s still because he’s waiting for her move, and deciding his own actions based on what she does, so she chooses her next move carefully.

If he were humana, she’d put a hand on his shoulder; instead, she rubs the back of her neck. “Even if there’s some people here who are leery of you - understandably, yes -there are other who would come to your defense, and we both know it. Gods above, White would be on someone after you like she was a mother bear. Red… well, you trust him, right? You listened to him.”

Cyan drops his chin slightly, shoulders shifting.

“And I know where I stand,” she finishes. “I’m captain of this crew, I’m their leader. Obviously I can’t guarantee everyone would follow my orders. I’m sure you’ve noticed, we’re not very good at following orders sometimes.”

Her grin is maybe a little too toothy, but he can’t see that anyway. Cyan lets out a little huff, and she can’t tell if it’s amusement or displeasure.

“But I want this to work,” she says. “I want you to be on our side, because _we_ want to be on yours when it comes to this crap MIRA’s pulling. You don’t have to let us within arm’s reach, I’m just asking for a chance to have a dialogue. With everyone.”

He looks at the vent, and then at her. “So... we all sit around the table and talk?”

“We could,” She says. “Or I can have the crew all sit on one side and you can stand by the vent if it makes you feel more secure.”

He lets out another huff of air, and this time she realizes it’s a sigh. “I’ll… think about it.”

“Well,” she says, stepping a little further away from the vent. “We’ll be all at the table just before lunch, if you decide to join us.”

He finally escapes back down the vent, and is relieved for it.

Yellow is… quite a speaker. Now he understands why she was chosen to lead this crew. At first he’d simply thought she was nothing more than an administrator with a fancy title, but now he can sense the qualities that mean she was assigned to lead this crew. She has a strong will but a kind touch. Her words come out as reasonable and believable. She’s confident in the rightness of her words, and her belief that people will listen. It’s… alluring.

Can he trust those pretty words? He just… he doesn’t know…

* * *

“He’s not coming,” Pink grumbles.

“You don’t know that, and keep your butt in that chair until I say otherwise,” Yellow retorts.

“Do you see me standing up?”

“Just checking,” Yellow says. Boy, Pink sure is grouchy about this. But then, she did wake him up from sleep, forgetting he was primarily night shift now.

White’s seated at the edge of the group, elbows on the table, apparently lost in thought. Yellow sweeps her gaze over the table, taking in everyone. Beside White is Purple, leaned down, possibly talking to her. Then on Purple’s left is Lime, writing away on her PDA, probably categorizing the tasks she’s already gotten done, and sorting the ones she still needs to finish. Then there’s Blue, her posture uncomfortable and angry, arms crossed.

She told her it’s a great idea and she fully supports it, but she’s still tense. Still bitter about Poppet, Yellow supposes. She can’t quite blame her for it. Beside Blue is Brown, and then Orange. Brown’s patting Blue’s shoulder, squeezing it in solidarity. Orange is pulling uncomfortably on his sleeve and rocking slightly in place as if trying to settle himself down. Yellow can’t blame him either - there’s been a lot of anxiety-inducing events in the last week.

Green, Pink and Red are filing out the end of the lineup. Pink’s grouchy, but otherwise relaxed between the two electricians. Green’s tapping a finger anxiously on the table, and Red’s straddling the bench, glancing around the room expectantly.

Yellow hopes Cyan will come, after she managed to herd this pack of cats into position. She crosses her arms. “Alright, listen up, since we might have a couple minutes.”

Heads turn towards her, and Yellow spreads her stance slightly, folding her hands behind her back in military posture.

“Cyan’s terrified of us as a group, which I’m sure everyone’s figured out on their own, but just to emphasize that, he said to me that two of us are fully capable of pulling his limbs off his body. So when I say he’s scared, he is scared.”

“We can-”

“What!?”

“What the absolute-”

Yellow holds up her hands. “Listen, this is only going to work if we all go into this agreeing to the truce. We all agree to always give him an escape route, ideally the vents.”

Nods all around, though Yellow notices Blue crossing her arms. She stares at Blue a moment longer than the rest, but Blue remains in place, so, fine.

“I don’t know if we’re actually capable of that, but that’s what Cyan believes. If you’d rather stay in pairs around him, that’s your choice. I don’t know if he will approach anyone in pairs, but give him space and let him give you space. If there’s going to be any breach of that space, take it slow and calm. Cyan seems to prefer keeping us at arm’s length anyway. I’ve got work for him to do that’ll make the rest of our jobs run more smoothly without the extra technical help he was providing when he was passing for crew, so that makes him part of the team.”

“And what does he have to prove his goodwill?” asks Brown, her hand still on Pink’s shoulder. “Not kill us, is that all?”

“Well, that’s a start,” Yellow replies dryly. “Obviously that, no sabotage, no locking doors. I’m going to ask him to show us how he knows how to do it and we’ll find out if it’s similar to how other Impostors do their own sabotages. Any other suggestions?”

“He has to follow the same rules we do,” says Pink after a moment. “That PDA stays on him at all times so we know where he is when we want to find him. Discipline is the same for him as it would be for the rest of us.”

“That’s reasonable, but I’m not sure what’d happen if he got a dismissal,” Yellow replies dryly.

“I doubt he’d do anything to get fired,” Pink snorts. “He can’t supervise us for the hive then.”

“Pink,” White’s tone is scolding. Pink snorts in amusement.

“What? Until we hear a proper group name for them, I’m calling them a Hive.”

“Seems a bit rude,” Black muses.

“They have a larva stage, so Hive,” Pink retorts.

“How about we ask him what they call a-” Yellow starts, but Orange interrupts.

“Can we all calm down please! My head hurts!”

“Okay, okay,” Purple speaks as calmly as he can. “I see where Pink’s logic is coming from, but it might be best to ask Cyan.”

“Yeah, but he’s not going to come,” Pink grunts.

Purple points at the same moment as a throat-clearing sound from across the room. Yellow turns to see Cyan’s upper half poking out from a vent in full view of the table.

“Oh,” Pink says.

“Should’ve bet money on it against you,” Red jokes, patting Pink on the back.

“Hmff,” Pink crosses his arms, shifting his weight as Yellow turns fully to face Cyan.

They’re even worse as a pack than they are in small groups. _So loud._ The Impostor stays in the vent with his tentacles stretched downwards, ready to pull himself back out of harms way if need be.

“If there’s a group of us, what we call them depends how many there are,” he tells them, raising his voice to their level. “If it’s less than five it’s a Hunt.”

“What do you call where your people live?” asks White.

Cyan pauses a moment, then shrugs deliberately. “Home.”

“Okay, y’walked into that one, White,” Lime sounds amused. The Impostor counts them, just to be sure that no one’s hiding where he can’t see. All Eleven. He stays in the vent.

“Okay, so, is it fair to assume that you were in the vent listening the whole time?” Yellow asks. He considers lying to see if she’ll repeat herself, paraphrase, or reword the terms she outlined to the crew.

“I was here,” he says after deciding that she’d see through a lie. He holds up his PDA. “And I wired the doors to my PDA.”

“You- how the heck did you do that?” Pink sounds astonished. Preening slightly, Cyan leans forward on his elbow.

“All your ships run on the same sort of systems. I got instructions on how to do it.”

“You know, add another one to the tally of ways MIRA’s screwing everyone over with the parasite cover story,” muses Orange. “Everyone expects Impostors to just be crewmen running on some parasite’s instinct, not part of a network of trained operative set on sabotage and infiltration.”

Cyan nods very slowly, looking down at his PDA. He’s not lying, but he left out the fact that he doesn’t need the PDA for this stuff, it’s just easier.

“Maybe he doesn’t need the PDA after all…” Pink mutters, heard clear as day by the Impostor.

“You hush,” Green says softly to Pink, also heard, though Cyan realizes they don’t know how sensitive his ears are. “We’re trying to make peace.”

“... I’ll definitely want to take that program off your PDA,” Yellow says after a minute to think. Cyan likes that; after realizing that he doesn’t mind waiting for a proper answer, she takes her time instead of falling over her words.

Sure, why not? Cyan can just link the door controls to the clicker one of his friends made for him instead. The clickers are just a little bit more frustrating to use because you have to remember which button is for which door. He slides his PDA across the floor at Yellow, who seems surprised.

“You’ll need to uninstall and reinstall the map and tasking software,” he informs her, still using _their_ volume instead of his natural one. He doesn’t explain how a tech-savvy member of his species made datasticks you plug into a PDA that alters those two programs so that when you link doors or other systems to your PDA, you can then link them into your map, connecting in your tasking software means you now have control of your connected systems. Let them erase the evidence from his PDA themselves.

“Right, okay,” Yellow taps on the PDA a moment, then ‘hmms’ and hands it over to Black, who stares at it a moment, then taps a couple buttons.

The cafeteria doors hiss and close simultaneously, locking tight. Everyone jumps and looks around, then at the Impostor who sinks a little into the vent.

“They’re the one with my PDA,” he manages, unable to keep the squeaky laughter out of his voice.

“I… was just trying to figure out how it works and figured that it was more sensible than seeing what the ‘O2’ button does,” Black says, embarrassed as heads turn to them. “Will they unlock on their own?”

“Y-yeah. The ships have some kind of internal override,” Cyan answers, still trying to control the little squeaks escaping his secondary voice box. That was quite possibly the funniest thing he’s seen one of them do! _Oh, so this is how you sabotage stuff, what happens if I hit this button basically labelled ‘sabotage door?’_

“Are you… okay?” Yellow asks.

“Y-yee-ss” He sinks back down into the vent a bit to regain composure.

“Pretty sure he’s laughing,” grunts Pink, “Not choking.”

“Oh.”

The doors groan and hiss as they unlock.

“Oh! Depressurization protocols!” Black says enthusiastically. “The sabotage must send a signal that orders the doors to seal due to emergency depressurization, but when the ship’s computer doesn’t detect loss of pressure in the sealed area after a couple minutes, it overrides the doors back open and logs an error.”

They figured that out from just playing with the sabotage controls!? Okay, less funny now. Cyan pokes back out of the vent as Black looks over the PDA.

“What about the Reactor, Lights, Comms, or O2?” they ask. “I don’t see anything about those on your PDA.”

“They’re all separate parts of the program that I didn’t get,” Cyan answers semi-truthfully. There’s a couple noises that might be disbelief around the table and he hunches in on himself uncomfortably. “You’re asking me to betray my people by telling you how to stop them. I won’t.”

It garners a long silence from the Invaders, and he hopes they let the meaning of his words sink in.

“Right, well,” Black hums after several awkward seconds. “I’ll give this back once I’ve gone through it.”

Cyan huffs a little, lifting up so he can brace his elbows on the floor again, and White takes it for a positive sign.

For the first time, she wonders how uncomfortable a position he’s put himself in with his own people. He’s broken protocol, revealed himself, told the enemy what he is. Will he be welcomed back with his own kind for trying to achieve a peaceful resolution? She hopes so. She’s been so focused on the big picture and how this affects herself that she hasn’t thought about what it could mean for the person who started all this.

Yellow approaches the vent, and Cyan hunches down it further, leaving White to wonder how the heck he fits. Actually…

“Hey,” She says quietly, leaning in to Purple. “Is his life support tank missing?”

“It is. That makes sense, it’d be too bulky to fit into the vents with,” Purple replies., just as softly. “I wonder how he avoids tearing his suit down there.”

“Hmm.”

“Okay, so,” Yellow looks at Cyan. “You do like your space right? We always give you that arm’s length buffer, you do the same for us. As to duties for you… It’s not glamorous, but if you’re responsible for keeping things organized, tidy and clean, it means it’s easier on everyone else to get their work done.”

Cyan tilts his head, then nods.

“I can do that, yes.”

“Good!” Yellow turns back to the crew. “This does not mean you can leave your workstations a disaster zone, to be clear.”

Nods all around. Yellow folds her hands behind her back and sweeps her gaze over the table, a drill sergeant on a mission. White grins to herself at the sight and the fact that even she’s fallen into line without argument. That woman is certainly the Captain with good reason.

“Anyone else have something to say?” She asks.

Orange raises his hand. Yellow nods to him, and he speaks to Cyan. “How do you Impostors kill people?”

“Orange!” squawks Red indignantly. But Cyan’s lifting his right hand and from his fingers extend the claws that White remembers. Just like before, she notes it’s only the last three fingers that have claws. They actually glint under the bright lights.

“Well, it’s only fair to know the warning signs,” Orange says, looking at Cyan’s hand. “Those are smaller than I’d have thought, actually.”

“You have soft skin,” Cyan states quietly. “We’re taught where your vitals are.”

“Right, well, I think the arms’ length rule will make everyone feel more comfortable,” says Pink uncomfortably. White hears him mumble something to Green, but misses what it is. Yellow clears her throat.

“Thank you,” she says to Cyan. “and we won’t forget that you’ll defend yourself if you feel threatened, either. It’s only fair.”

Cyan relaxes minutely, but his shoulders immediately lift again when Yellow steps towards the vent. His clawed hand plants on the floor, and White can’t help but think that that, right there, is proof of her thoughts of him being a prey creature. If he’d raised those claws defensively, she wouldn’t be able to blame him, per se. But by dropping his weapons, he’s displaying a preference for flight over fight.

Yellow stop a few paces away from the Impostor, putting her hands together, then spreading them apart a little. “I know you feel safe down there, but in our own culture we believe that everyone should have the right to walk around freely without fear of harm or prosecution if they themself offer none to others. I intend to follow that philosophy, and I will enforce it amongst my Crew. That includes you; you have tasks on this ship, you’re on the register, and the amount of rations we get takes you into account.”

She pauses to glance over her shoulder at the rest of the crew, and White straightens a little, nodding her agreement. She stays seated, but holds her hand out towards Cyan to try and offer friendship. He looks at her, then back to Yellow, who steps closer still. Cyan’s Visor unhinges ever-so-slightly, but Yellow doesn’t back away.

“Cyan, Cerulean said you’re under his protection, but he’s a distant person you haven’t met. I’m right here, an authority you know, and you are under my protection, this I swear.”

The Impostor’s visor snaps shut, Cyan lifting his head to look up as Yellow taps the side of her helmet, perhaps turning down visor opacity. The Captain steps close enough that they could grasp arms, then turning her hand over, offering her outstretched palm to the Impostor.

Cyan looks at the hand offered to him, then to Yellow, her confident gaze barely discernible, then at the crew, still seated behind her. He knows there’ll be consequences to his actions, no matter what he chooses. To refuse, to stay in the vents, he can guess the consequences of that, of the crew being as nervous of him as he is of them. That’d be… well, they’d all be on the same page.

The consequences of accepting, he has a harder time guessing at, and truthfully, he never could. His worst fear is to be betrayed, captured to airlock or experimented on. His greatest hope: to start something that will end this invasion threatening his species.

What he can’t know is that accepting means the loss of tension the more the crew proves to him that they will welcome him among them. It means friendly touches to the elbow, hands squeezing his shoulders, social contact from trustworthy people _-friends,_ that he’s been without for a long time. It means sufficient food to keep him thriving, not simply surviving. It means restful sleep and content waking hours.

It means that his body, encountering social physical contact that comforts him, well fed and rested, will trigger a natural response for his species when surrounded by community. After a couple weeks of security, his physiology will trigger an estrous cycle. Something he has not experienced since before he became an Infiltrator, and in that state, he will be sore and distracted and vulnerable. He will be afraid of discovery by his new alien friends, for surely they’ll be shocked at what they find, or if they plan to betray him, that will be the perfect time.

But instead, when found by Red, he will be offered a helping hand, the crewman not knowing what’s wrong, only that Cyan’s afraid and uncomfortable, needing aid. Should he not be able to help enough, he will try to find someone else who can help the Impostor, a medic. Such care and concern when he’s most vulnerable would break down the last walls of fear and mistrust, even for a shy creature like Cyan.

He can’t predict the future, he doesn’t know this can happen. All he has are the calculations in his brain as he considers the hand Yellow offers in friendship.

He reaches out… hesitates…

Then he closes his fingers around hers to let her pull him from the vent.


End file.
